#i want her to experience the mundane free of any and all threats

[sylvies-kablooie]

where would you like sylvie to end up at the end of season 2 (if not with loki)?

in terms of predictions, i don’t have anything concrete, with or without loki. but where i want her to end up is somewhere safe where she can listen to her records in peace and live the life she has always deserved. i want her fate to resemble this image.

[llendrinall]

Dear Endrina

I am once again finding myself reading the secret language of plants, and I was wondering.

Are you still writing? Fanfiction, original fiction or others?

I would love to check out other things you are writing (if not already in ao3).

Is there any fanfiction authors your were inspired by for your work? I haven't really found anybody who writes just like you managed to do.

I am a big fan of your work and it always cheers me up reading your stories 😊 thanks for sharing with us all ❤️

Hello, dear.

I am writing, but I am not posting. There are many reasons why: less time, less energy, less fandoms that pique my interest, etc. I won’t detail them all reasons here. I dislike the idea of posting unfinished works so I have nothing to show. I will say that I am working on a collection of (fandom) stories and when I got your ask, I stole a couple of hours to other tasks and wrote 900 words. Nice! Although what started as 7 stories has grown to 16 so I don’t know when they will be ready.

As for other works or authors, funnily enough I had been meaning to write a couple of posts about books, so I will just do it here.

Endrina’s list of very nice books

Quality is subjective so the main criteria here is whether I have re-read these books, whether they had something to drawn me back.

Original fiction

Terry Pratchett.

Every Pratchett fan easily admits that his first books are not very good and that there is no good point to start reading. You simply pick a book, plunge into Discworld, and figure things as you go. Pratchett’s turn of phrase if excellent. Pratchett’s examination of morals is even better. Because it’s fantasy, Pratchett has not been taken seriously. He is too juvenile, too funny, too unserious. But he is also a master at making readers grow a political conscience.

The post I was meaning to write was a comparison between Pratchett’s witches (Weyrd Sisters, Witches Abroad, etc.) and some other author’s witches. Ok, it’s JKR, but I didn’t want it to be a direct attack on her or her character. It’s just a comparison of the content.

In Harry Potter the wizarding world is hidden. The reason given is that muggles would be demanding favors nonstop. Later I think it is implied that muggles may be dangerous to wizards. In Discworld, however, magic is perfectly public. People do demand favors from witches (and wizards, but less so) and people are a threat to magical folk. One of the Tiffany Aching’s books (aimed to younger readers, but still excellent) opens with an imprisoned witch about to be executed (she frees herself, of course, by magical and mundane means).

The thought came to me regarding anesthesia use during labor. I am sure that in Harry Potter witches don’t experience pain giving birth, but they don’t share that gift with muggles.

In Harry Potter, magic folk let non-magic folk suffer.

In Discworld, magic folk understand magic as a duty, while accepting that there won’t be thanks or appreciation. If you have the ability to save a sheep, to remove someone’s pain, to make their passing easier, you must do it.

It’s surprising that school libraries would ban Harry Potter and not Pratchett, because he is the one with potential to bring people to the left.

Naomi Novik

How to describe the Temeraire series? They are very good, they have dragons, they are populated by people who feel very real.

The first book is dedicated to building a fantasy world. So cool. So exciting. It would look so nice as an HBO MAX show! They would blunder the second season, but the first season would be excellent.

The next eight books ruthlessly deconstruct the first one. Much like Pratchett, Novik takes an idea and asks, “but how can this work?” and, often, the answer is “by the suffering and exploitation of poor people”. And she (like Pratchett) will drag the answer to the light.

The third book, Gunpowder war, is my favorite because the structure is crisp and neat. Three places, thee different environments, three challenges. You go from movement to arrest and back to movement and afterwards you feel like having completed a videogame.

Agatha Christie

She, like Pratchett, is not considered a “proper” author. I suspect it’s because she is a woman and because her books are accessible. There is this bias against books and stories that many people can enjoy.

Being a British woman born in 1890, her writing does have some ideas that seem outdated, especially regarding foreigners and Jews. But it’s ameliorated by the fact that all her characters are individuals. Each one of them is a distinct person rather than a stand-in for a whole group. So when in Lord Edgware Dies a Jewish woman is described as greedy an ambitious, she is still given enough personality that it seems like a “her” problem rather than a group trait. I don’t want to completely excuse or handwave it. Occasionally there are racist undertones. But they are still way less obvious that many modern works.

For a long time, every October/November I would read one of her novels to get in the Autumn mood, but lately I have found myself reading her “out of season” and wondering why her call was growing stronger. I realized recently it’s because in her books people don’t enjoy killing. Oh, someone is going to die. Perhaps more than one person. But the murderer kills because a) they expect to inherit, b) they are guarding a secret, c) they are in love, d) a variation of the three. They don’t enjoy killing, is my point. They don’t do it for pleasure. There are no elaborate and inventive ways to torture someone and desecrate a corpse. I find that I am very tired of recent trends in which a psycho killer tortures young women and taunts the police.

Also, Christie is very compassionate towards women. Some women are good, some are evil, some are adulteress, some have relations with married men, some get pregnant while single. In the latter case, the tone is more of “it happens” rather than “what a slut”. It is no ideal, it means trouble and social exclusion for the woman, but it happens so Christie doesn’t moralize about it. (And in Hallowe’en Party there is a single mother who is treated as perfectly normal).

I said earlier her characters are distinct individuals. Christie’s strength lies in voicing varied psychological profiles. Her two main detectives (Poirot and Marple) read as asexual (no matter the forced heteronormative that TV/movie adaptations try to push). Poirot also is a clear case of OCD and… it’s fine. That’s how he is. There are also some great ADHD characters. There is whatever was going on Ms MacGinty is dead. The main suspect is clinically depressed or something, I don’t remember well.

People are varied and allowed to be weird, and I love it.

(Occasionally, a couple of lesbians will pop. Sadly, because these are murder mysteries, one of them may die. But it doesn’t read like a Bury Your Gays trope)

Miguel de Cervantes

This one is not like the others because there is a lot of scholarly work about Cervantes. So much so that he is taken as a Very Serious author when, in fact, he is Pretty Funny. Think lines like “thus came a man riding a donkey, although it may had been a mule, there is no consensus regarding the animal, except it was probably grey of coat. The man was carrying a basin on his head.”

Having some political and cultural context helps to enjoy Don Quixote, but it is not a sine qua non requisite. For English, I like Grossman’s translation.

(Also, this is almost never mentioned: Miguel de Cervantes and his brother were suspected in the murder of a high class nobleborn who was a known sexual harasser. And it shows. There is a chapter in DQ that could very well be titled: Incel Culture, let’s not).

Fanfiction

Astolat

Astolat’s stories follow the pattern of the Common Man falling for the Enlightened Man. This tickles something deep in my brain and I love it.

The Common Man may not be so common. He may be a renowned warrior. He may be a hero. He is only common when opposed to the Enlightened Man (who may be a woman, like Brienne of Tarth, fantastic). The latter is someone with their third, fourth and fifth eye open. Someone who understands magic and, what’s even more difficult, morality. Someone who knows. What they know may vary, but the knowledge is there and with it a certain sense of being removed, of not fitting in the world. So they are surprised to attract the desperate interest of the Common Man.

Other things to like: clever construction of plot, deep and surrounding worldbuilding with just a couple of strokes.

Owlet

Her Bucky (MCU) series is fantastic, but the first work, This, you protect is particularly good. It is funny, it is healing, and it’s an interesting example of how to enthrall people. Most fanfics have sex, it is almost a requisite. Some readers will reject a story if the promise of hot scenes isn’t there. Well, This, you protect doesn’t have sex. It has coffee concoctions and grilled cheese sandwiches, and they are so satisfying that you won’t even notice there is no sex.

Scaramouche

I haven’t read her latest works (I am bit tired of the MCU and Steve/Tony doesn’t work for me) but I have read her previous work, specially the Supernatural fics, and enjoyed them thoroughly. The setting of her stories is imaginative yet familiar. No matter how alternative the AU is, it always feels natural and real, as if she had been a long time there and knew every place and every aspect.

The hoyden

Her DP9 and XMen fics read like silk. I don’t have another word. They are delicate and soft and they flow. They feel luxurious.

[askmerriauthor]

Regarding discussion in this post here.

I think a lot of the dislike toward Geeta is two-fold when it comes to her behavior as a shitty boss.

First is how Paldea's depiction compares to other Champions and Gym Leaders in the past. In prior games, the Champion was either not discussed at all and merely existed as an end goal for the Player to overcome, or was regarded with a certain level of respect by everyone in the setting. In other cases, the Champion was even depicted as something akin to a vigilante/superhero who would actively go around righting wrongs and protecting the region from threats. However it was, the Champion was always someone held in very high esteem by the Gym Leaders and the general public, as well as carrying a certain level of mystique about themselves.

Geeta is decidedly mundane by comparison. She's integrated herself directly into the general day-to-day business of Paldea. Everyone knows who she is because they see her and directly interact with her all the damn time. Similarly, the Gym Leaders are comfortable enough to voice a negative opinion about her, which is in direct contrast to how Champions have always been treated in the past. I feel like the fact that they're willing to raise any criticism about Geeta, no matter how minor, is what a lot of Players are glomming onto and blowing out of proportion. I've seen folk saying things like "Larry absolutely loathes Geeta with every fiber of his being!" with a straight face. I mean, come on - Larry is annoyed by her, sure, but he's probably low-key annoyed by the majority of people/things he has to deal with in his everyday life. The guy's the literal personification of the "overworked salaryman" trope. He's annoyed by people like Rika and Hassel as well, but nobody mentions them. Do you think Larry could exist in the general proximity of someone as bombastically extra as Brassius for more than five seconds without wanting to eat a Hyper Beam?

Secondly, I think that it's because Geeta is presented as being a boss - an employer and manager - that there's a certain level of projection from Players. Misdirected ire taken from their own experiences with lousy, meddling bosses that they're pushing onto Geeta. We all vibe with Larry because, odds are, we're more like Larry than any other character. A lot of us older Players are tired, stressed workers who have to put up with bothersome bosses and the general public on a daily basis. So it's very easy to project that stress onto a character like Geeta even if she doesn't necessarily deserve it. Taking a step back and looking at a character, and their actions, in an objective manner is hard to do when one's first inclination is to experience the story in its intended manner - in an emotional, relatable way.

That's not to say Geeta gets a free pass. As I covered in an earlier post, she does A LOT of really shifty things and takes advantage of others' cooperation. So it's not like everyone calling her out is just doing so from a bias, unfair position. But I feel like there's definitely some folk who are letting their own feelings stubbornly color their judgement.

[outofangband]

Anonymous Asked: Could you say more about who in Angband Maedhros interacted with and when he was more alone

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

Absolutely, anon!

My response:

I hope this is what you meant? Let me know if you want anything else and as always please feel free to ask more, I love talking about this stuff

Named Angband denizens

An incomplete list

Morgoth

I’ve talked so much about Maedhros and Morgoth’s dynamic and I’m always glad to have another chance.

Morgoth’s obsession with Maedhros is largely by proxy. Maedhros is another precious object to be stolen from Fëanor and a valued symbol to be taken from the Noldor

One reason it’s so interesting to me is because it’s both simultaneously so dehumanizing as Maedhros is reduced solely to how he interests Morgoth but it’s also so personal. It requires him to be exactly Nelyafinwë Maitimo.

Sauron tortured Maedhros not infrequently. I’ve spoken before about how Sauron oversees a lot of the mundane torture of Angband; branding, invasive and unwanted medical procedures (though these will often be done by his Maiar assistants)

He became nearly as loathed a figure as Morgoth himself for Maedhros especially in the years after his rescue when Sauron had caused more destruction and loss throughout Beleriand

Thuringwethil he met one or two times. They were never formally introduced and the second meeting wasn’t exactly sanctioned by the higher ups. He would never know what the elves called her and could never definitively link a name in the fortress to her

I have this fic here I’m quite pleased with

Gothmog was involved in Maedhros’s capture .They had a few interactions in the fortress during the first few years. Gothmog whipped him at least twice and was at times present at public events

Langon was in the background of Maedhros’s intake process. He is unbearably impersonal and bureaucratic though largely forgotten in the context of all the other trauma.

Unnamed and others

Wolves of Angband: I talked about them a bit here but Maedhros did have a few unpleasant encounters with the wolves

Orcs: would probably require it’s own post though I do have this one here

The orcs of Angband took place frequently in everyday tortures and indignities. They were also among those who healed injuries, alleviated pain and thirst, or otherwise aided Maedhros or mitigated his torment at times

The mercy shown in the darkness is something that haunts him, sometimes more than the cruelty

Other prisoners

Maedhros was largely kept isolated from them for a variety of reasons; prisoners who had any leadership position prior to their capture are usually kept separate or heavily watched both to prevent them from being able to organize or inspire others and to exacerbate any disconnect among other things*, Maedhros was of particular interest to Morgoth

He did have some interactions with others during his brief time in the kitchens of Angband and in a few other places though the elves he saw there were mostly Avari without much language in common

The other elves were frequently unwilling spectators as he was to them.

*low level leaders, captains and others who aren’t of interest to Morgoth or the war efforts are usually claimed by a higher up or just kept with a group they can’t communicate with and heavily watched

Heavily Changed elves and hybrids

I have an upcoming post on one particular group of these :) but Maedhros was sometimes kept with others who had been so altered by various experiments, procedures, torture, magic and others, they had all but taken on new forms. This is occasionally used as psychological torture in Angband as well as a threat and a statement; This is what you can so easily become

Alone

Maedhros was isolated for long periods of time, having little to no contact with anyone. Even before Thangorodrim, he was exposed to solitary confinement as a means of torture, in pitch black pits and chambers designed for sensory deprivation, in confining restraints, sometimes after being deliberately exposed to mind altering substances

As always please feel free to ask more! I love things like this

[dwellordream]

now that i have access to my full book collection again i am once again recommending the following post apoc/dystopian faves:

station eleven by emily st john mandel: my favorite book of all time. ever. i adore it. the quintessential ‘soft’ post apocalypse novel.

some twenty years after a virus wiped out over 90% of humanity in the span of mere months, a traveling orchestra and theater company journeys around the northern US and canada, performing for the various settlements and villages that have sprung up.

under the motto of ‘survival is insufficient’ and led by the capable Conductor, the orchestra is a collection of misfit survivors unwilling to settle down and incredibly pedantic and passionate about their craft.

kirsten, a former child actress, spends her free time scavenging for memories alongside her best friend august. they are left behind when the orchestra runs afoul of a dangerous cult and must fight to reunite with their friends and evade the prophet, the cult’s obsessive leader.

station eleven is notable for having very little violence and very few explicit scenes despite being in the post apocalypse genre. rather than being focused on gore or action sequences it is almost entirely character focused and jumps back and forth in time from Before and After the virus. it has a special regard for the beauty of life in spite of its horrors and how family is the people you choose, not the one you’re born into.

the water knife by paolo bacigalupi: set in a dystopian USA on the verge of total environmental collapse, the water knife is a cyberpunk thriller revolving around a young migrant girl desperate to escape her dangerous home territory for greener pastures, a hardened ‘water knife’ who essentially works as a mercenary for a sinister corporation buying up what little water remains, and an intrepid journalist who wants to make a difference.

extremely dark and violent but incredibly compelling and suspenseful, very hard to put down. some very sharp commentary on immigration, environmental destruction, and unchecked capitalism.

california by edan lepucki: a sort of real time post apocalypse book that covers more so the slow deterioration into apocalyptic conditions than any one catastrophic event. which makes it all that more scary.

essentially shows how a series of terrorist attacks, separatists movements, and environmental disasters lead to society grinding to a halt and most people fleeing the cities for the countryside or in the main characters’ case, the forests of california.

mostly focused on how people adapt to a life without the technology and convenience they were raised with and the debate over how to raise future generations (or if to raise them at all). not a super violent book but has some incredibly disturbing scenes and moral questions about survival and the greater good.

the handmaid’s tale by margaret atwood: yes everyone knows this one but the handmaid’s tale still holds up as terrifyingly believable and a very convincing portrayal of how evil flourishes when good people look the other way and do nothing.

very different in tone and smaller in scale from the hit tv show, the book focuses not on a rebellion within gilead but the mundane and horrifying life of offred, a woman living within the system as a handmaid for the ‘crime’ of marrying a divorced man.

atwood published the book in the 80s and portrays an america turned into a theocratic nightmare after an alliance between the christian right and sex worker exclusionary radical feminists leads to a series of ‘cultural reforms’ that culminate in a terrorist attack which destroys most of the federal government and leads to a brutal civil war.

the handmaid’s tale is compelling because it’s a story of small everyday resistance which allows offred to endure and survive, rather than the promise of a great rebellion. offred is very purposefully your average everyday woman who led a perfectly mundane life and who did not realize the road she was on until it was far too late.

as a handmaid her ability to still appreciate the beauty of life and hold out hope for change is what keeps her alive even under terrible conditions.

the blondes by emily schulz: basically the book can be summed up as this: a ‘rage virus’ infects the world’s blonde and female population, bringing society to a screeching halt. looks at a world in which women, particularly white women are no longer seen as vulnerable and in need of protection but as the number one deadly threat.

half satire half serious, takes a look at policing, state violence, and reproductive rights. pretty much an all women cast of characters who talk about any and everything but men.

find me by laura van den berg: a mysterious illness sweeps the US inducing memory loss, dementia, and death in its victims. the protagonist is one of the few immune to the sickness, and is ironically plagued by her own memories of a traumatic childhood in foster care. she sets off on a quest to find her birth mother, who she knows is living in florida.

in order to do this she just has to break out of the lab she’s being held as a test subject in, evade dangerous groups of survivors, and somehow make the journey hundreds of miles south on her own.

pretty much the definition of ‘it’s about the experience, not the destination.’ less about finding her mother and more about finding herself in a world that can’t remember anything and never offered much to her in the first place.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

This Wasn’t Planned

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Damon Salvatore x Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: All of the feels. Character sickness, mentions of future death, light fluff. 

Author’s Note: Here is the next installment of Angst prompts. I couldn’t believe how fast I got this one done the other night. I couldn’t write something fluffy and instead I focused on the angsty prompts in my drafts and this was the result. I’m sorry for any heartbreak. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥ 

Y/N sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Half the table had been cleaned up, leaving only her dishes sitting in front of her the whole time. She couldn’t bring herself to clean up her side and go to bed. As exhausted as she was, she couldn’t get herself up out of the chair she had been sitting in. Midnight came and went while she occupied the same spot. Even if her body ached from sitting, she couldn’t bring herself to move. 

As her Y/E/C eyes stared at the wood of the table, her mind had been plagued with thoughts she could no longer control. The ‘what if’s took claim over her brain, and she couldn’t get them to stop. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go, she knew that. If she had just left things alone, she felt as if she wouldn’t be sitting there as she was at the moment. But even if that was the case, she’d lose all the things she gained.

Her world had drastically changed in the last two decades of her life. She never once regretted the decisions that she made to get there. At least there was never a reason to, until now. She never expected for things to take a turn as they did. This was supposed to last the rest of her life, not just a handful of years. 

Her heart had once been ready to face the heartbreak that used to come constantly. It had steeled itself over the death threats and near death experiences she faced for being in the middle of things. Her heart was used to losing loved ones and the hurt of it eased over time. But this, this broke her the most. 

She never thought she’d be losing the love of her life after promising each other to grow old with each other. To spend the rest of their human lives together was something she looked forward to doing. She had expected her kids to be so much older be fore this happened to either one of them. But of course, the universe had a way of throwing the possibility of a long and healthy life right out the window. 

It felt like a lifetime ago that Y/N had asked Damon to take the cure with her. For the longest time, Damon refused to take it. While there were moments that he missed being human, he wasn’t ready to throw away the idea of living forever. The thought of mundane things didn’t help the situation either. Y/N believed that she wouldn’t be able to convince him and accepted the fact that even if Damon didn’t take the cure, she’d be by his side for as long as she possibly could. 

At lest that until Damon believed he lost her because of who he was. Y/N had a target on her back as an act of revenge against Damon. Damon had been close to saving Y/N before Kai took things into his own hands, creating a tether to Y/N and when Damon and the others had sent Kai into the prison world, he took Y/N with him. It left Damon doing everything he could humanly and supernaturally possible to try and get her back. 

Her time in the prison world hadn’t been easy. As a human, she had to evade Kai as best as she could. It left her bruised and broken with every attempt. At least that was until she found a way to kill Kai on her own. It felt like years later that Damon and the others had finally gotten to her. 

The moment she was in Damon’s arms, he had made several promises to never leave her side. That if it had meant taking the cure to do that, he’d take it without fighting her on it. He kept his promises and it wasn’t long before Damon was human with her. And that had been the better start of their lives together. 

“If you are falling asleep at the table again, I think I’m gonna have to give Damon a call.” Elena said as she walked into the kitchen, taking a seat next to Y/N. 

Y/N pulled her head out of her hands and looked over at Elena. She couldn’t think of anything besides how thankful she was that Elena had agreed to help her for the next few weeks. “I should be there with him. Not here, sitting around going crazy.”

Elena gently took a hold of her hand. “We both know how stubborn Damon can be. He doesn’t want you seeing him like this. Plus, the kids need their mother.”

Tears formed in Y/n’s eyes at Elena’s words. “We promised each other that if something like this ever happened, we’d be by each other’s side the whole time. I just want to grab my things and go to him.”

Elena sighed softly as her hand tightened around Y/N’s hand. “Visiting hours are over.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m not a damn visitor, I’m his wife. There shouldn’t be restrictions on that.”

“Okay,” Elena nodded. “You can go and I’ll stay with the kids. But, what about Stefanie?” She asked looking down towards the hallway. “Damon said she’ll want to know where you’re going and if its to see him, she’s going to insist on going too.”

Y/N knew that Elena was trying to help. She hadn’t been wrong either. With Stefanie being attached to Damon, there was no way that she was going to let Y/N go without her. She needed to wait until visiting hours, so she could see her father. Y/N would hate leaving her behind. 

Y/N brought her free hand up to her face to wipe the tears that slowly fell. “It wasn’t supposed to be him.”

Elena shook her head. “We aren’t start this tonight. Being human has its disadvantages. Damon knew what he was getting himself into when he agreed to take the cure.”

“That doesn’t make this any easier.” Y/N looked anywhere but at Elena. “Decades of being in perfect condition and this screws it all up.”

“Come on, Y/N/N. You know that there are possibilities of him making it in the clear. Not all things end badly.” Elena was trying to explain things as best as she could without fueling the thoughts that were already going through Y/N’s head. 

“Is that your professional opinion or is that coming from a friend?” Y/N asked as her eyes finally landed on Elena. 

Elena shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Both. While I may not be Damon’s doctor, he’s in good hands, Y/N/N.” Her eyes moved over to the hallway once more, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Your daughter is up.”

Not even a moment later, Stefanie had come down the hall and into the kitchen. Her sleepy blue eyes had told Y/N that she had just woken up in search for her. The almost ten-year old looked more like her father in recent years. A thought that made Y/N’s heart a little more. 

“Is it time to go see Dad yet?” Stefanie asked as she came to Y/N’s side and leaned against her mother.

“We still have a few more hours before we can go.” Y/N said as she took her hand out of Elena’s to wrap her arm around her daughter, pulling her closer. A whine came from Stefanie and Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “Me too, kid. I want to go see him too.”

“You both should go get some more sleep.” Elena said giving them a smile. “I’ll be sure to wake you when it’s time.”

“But can’t we go now?” Stefanie asked looking over at Elena, while never moving from her mother’s hold. 

“It’s late. I’m sure your dad is sleeping right now too.” Elena said with a nod. “He needs his rest, just like you two do. And when you wake up, your mom will take you to see him while I stay behind with your brother.”

“All the father daughter bonding you two can have.” Y/N promised as she kissed the top of Stefanie’s head. It brought comfort to not only Stefanie, but Y/N as well. “I know your dad would love that.”

Stefanie looked up at her mother. “Will you be going to bed too?”

Y/N ran her free hand along her daughter’s cheek. While Damon was away from her, she did have two humans to worry about. Stefanie and Jace needed their mother. She understood why Damon told her to stay home. Their kids needed her at home instead of in room where she’d be uncomfortable. It made her all the more thankful that Elena accepted her call for help when she needed it. “Only if you stay with me. Not having your dad home makes me feel alone.”

Stefanie’s eyes lit up at that. “I can have dad’s side?”

Y/N nodded. “As long as you promise to go right to sleep.” Stefanie pulled herself out of her mother’s hold and ran straight for the room. “I’m going to take that as an agreement.”

“It was either her or me that was going to end up getting you to bed.” Elena said giving her a smile.

She huffed a chuckle. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know where I’d be without your help.”

“Something tells me if I didn’t come, it’d be either Care or Bonnie that did. We are here to help in any way that we can.” Elena hoped that Y/N understood that. 

Giving her a smile, Y/N nodded. Without another word, Y/N got up from her seat and finally headed to bed. 

_____

There was one thing Y/N always hated throughout her life. No matter what vampires or witches she came up against, there was still only one thing she hated more. She hated Hospitals with a passion. She hated the eerie feeling that always crawled up her spine when she went to one. 

Even as she walked into Damon’s hospital room, the same eerie feeling spread through her. The beeping of the machines didn’t make it any better. And seeing her husband laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to several machines made her heart hurt. 

“There’s my girls.” Damon said as Y/N and Stefanie walked through the door. There was a grin plastered on his face as he held his arms out for Stefanie. Without any hesitation, Stefanie ran for her father’s arms. 

Y/N watched with a smile on her face. “From the moment visiting hours started, she’s been ready to go.” 

Damon chuckled and looked down at his daughter who was looking up at him. “Did you give her the face?”

Stefanie’s head quickly nodded as her smile grew. “It worked.” 

Both Damon and Y/N laughed at that. Damon had been teaching Stefanie how to give his puppy eyed looked that always got Y/N to cave in with him. Seeing as Stefanie took after her father, she had the look down easily. 

“Now imagine what she’ll be like when she starts dating.” Y/N said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

A groan passed Damon’s lips. “Let’s not talk about that now.” He looked back at Stefanie. “You’ll only use that look on mom. No boys.”

The girls laughed at his words. While Stefanie made a promise that she wouldn’t, both parents knew she’d one day use it on someone else. And while they continued on talking about the things Damon was missing at home, there was that heavy feeling in Y/N’s chest at the thoughts that were now plaguing her mind. 

“I keep telling myself you are gonna get better.” Y/N said as her hand tightened around Damon’s. 

Damon gave her a smile and returned a squeeze to her hand. “Getting better sounds like a far off dream.” 

Y/N’s eyes watered at that. She looked over at Damon’s side where Stefanie was currently sleeping. “Do you know how many times I keep saying it should have been me?”

Damon shook his head. “Hey, eventually the eternal stud needed to retire. This was just the way the universe decided to do it.”

Y/N looked down at their hands. Damon’s thumb ran along her hand in a way that usually brought comfort to Y/N. “Do you regret this?” She asked as she looked over at him.

Damon’s eyes widened at her question. After adjusting himself slightly, in a way not to wake his daughter, he shook his head before his eyes met hers. “Not a single moment. Not when I’ve gotten everything I wanted.”

“We’d been so worried that it’d be me.” Her eyes gave way to the tears she had been holding back. “I never thought it’s be you that got sick. I knew eventually we would grow old and that was when this was supposed to happen. Not now.”

“I’m not going anywhere yet.” His words were both comforting and worrisome to Y/N. 

“I wanna hold you to that, Salvatore.” She said with a hopeful smile. “But we know how my twisted mind works.”

“Oh baby, I do.” He said with a smirk growing on his lips. It caused Y/N to start laughing, just as Damon intended. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” She said shaking her head. 

“I know.” He said with a nod. “But it was one of the ways to get you get rid of that worried expression off your face.”

“You might have to get used to it. It might become a permanent expression soon.” She joked.  While it was a joke, there was some truth to it. Her worried expression had been more frequent recently. Even now as she had taken in how her husband currently looking in that hospital bed. 

He may have looked like himself, but Y/N could see the minor changes. The dark circles under his eyes were never this prominent. The scruff that was currently on his face was hiding the fact that his face was beginning to thin out thanks to the toll on his body from the different procedures he’d gone through. 

“How’s Jace?” Damon asked, Hoping to take her mind off of what it was currently on. 

“He misses you.” She said with a nod. “He’s having trouble understanding why Stefanie gets to come, but he can’t.” She sighed softly. “Elena took him to the school so that he could be distracted with the kids his age.”

“He must be loving that.” He said with a nod. “Maybe we should have Elena, or even Caroline, compel his way in. Just for a few hours.”

Y/N smiled at that. “I thought you said you didn’t want any vampire interference with this.” 

“Vampire blood can’t help since the cure is running through my veins. And after what happened with Liz, I’d rather not.” He said with a nod of his head. “But some things do have its perks. Like getting our son in here for a little bit.” His arm tightened around Stefanie for a moment. “I honestly can’t wait to go home.”

“Neither can I.” She nodded. “I think everyone would feel better if you were home. I hate that you’re here. That you don’t want me here during the nights.”

Damon sighed. “I’d rather you be comfortable at home with the kids. I know how you feel about hospitals.” 

“I’d stay for you. I’ll get over it. I just-” She shook her head trying to stop the tears that wanted to form again. “I’m losing my mind. I’m scared, Damon. I don’t know how to go through this. And if things don’t change for-”

“Don’t.” Damon said as he pulled his hand away from hers and brought it up to her cheek. “Nothing negative. We’ve been through a whole hell of a lot worse than cancer. We’ll make it through this.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat as she nodded. “Okay.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips. “You know what we haven’t done in a while?”

Her eyebrow raised at his question. “What?”

“Five years from now, where are you?” Hearing Y/N’s chuckle at the question, he grinned. 

Even with tears in her eyes, Y/N smiled back at him. Taking a deep breath she thought of something positive. Her hopes for the next five years. “Home, with you. We’ve beaten this and you’ve been in remission for a few years now. We take the kids on more trips. More getaways for the two of us. We live just as we had before you took the cure.”

“There’s only one problem with that.” He said with a slight shrug. “Living like I hadn’t taken the cure means I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

Y/N huffed. “You’ve always been there to protect me, even as a human, Damon. And that is what scares me the most. I don’t want to do this on my own.”

“I hope you never have to.” His eyes met hers. “I did promise you until old and gray, Mrs. Salvatore. I’m gonna try my damnedest to give you that.  We’ll get through this.” 

Before Y/N could say anything, Stefanie began to wake. While the two adults never talked about the possible outcomes in front of their kids, for now being together as they were was what mattered the most. In a few hours, Damon would call Elena and ask for a vampire favor. Damon needed his family by his side, and that included his son. 

One way or another, Damon was sure his family would make it through this. He fought plenty of times before for the people that were in the room with him and others. He was going to fight as hard as he could to get better.

Always & Forever Tag:

@taylordrunkonwhiskey​ @thewolf-and-thesheep​ @wayward-dan​ @neeadinghugs​ @fafulous​ @kenmen02​ @elizamonet​ @dora-the-grownup​ @mschellehitt​ @xanderling​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @buckysarm4​ @hi-my-name-is-riley​ @helenasingers​ @alka16555​

[serelia-evensong]

All Possible Truths

Serelia’s head pounds.  Pounding isn’t the right word.  It throbs.  It squirms and twists.  In her several hundred years of life, the woman who was once Quel’dorei, then Sin’dorei, now Ren’dorei, has experienced many sorts of headaches.  The minor aches and pains of every day life.  The withdrawal of caffeine.  The dull ache of too much to drink, and waking with a dehydrated body.

Nothing ever felt the way the Void feels.  Headaches can be described in so many ways, but the one she experiences today feels like a nest of worms writhing and squirming at the base of her neck, where spine meets skull.  The kind of pulsing moving ache that makes a person want to dig nails into their skin and attempt to rip out whatever can be found beneath.

It’s controlled, most days.  Since she lost her natural sight, since the Void ‘augmented’ the woman it claims as its own, she has focused her life on strict structure.  When you can see every possible reality all at once, it becomes difficult beyond measure to know what is true.  So she walks the same paths.  Trains the same places.  Drinks at the same seat in the bar.  She keeps eyes squeezed shut often, when the magic in her glasses can’t filter out the truths the Void wishes to show her.

In these ways, she stays sane, keeps the headaches and confusion at bay.  The Mage District.  The Canals.  The Golden Keg.  The Brawlpub hidden beneath it.  Old Town.  Training grounds.  The stall at the market that sells baking supplies.  She has an acute mental map that keeps her stable, filled with immutable facts that hold the Void’s madness at bay.

Today, she is in Westfall, a place she hasn’t been since she fought Percival what feels like a lifetime ago.  In truth, in her long lived life, it was barely a flicker, two years, give or take.  It feels longer, but regardless, Westfall is not a part of her mental map, so the headache writhes.

Going through her flows, the methods of control of body, mind, and spirit taught by the Panderan helps.  At least until a voice calls out, breaking through the meditative calm of her practice.

“Well, and here I thought I had come across something valuable,” the voice is echoed and metallic, altered by the metal mask the Warlock wears.  “Instead, it’s just one of the filthy pets of the crown who had the stupid idea to come after me.  On another bounty hunt to reclaim something that now belongs to me?”

In the space between where Serelia moves from pose to pose, eyes squeezed shut, and the Warlock calls out to her, she can tell there are Demons.  The pair of stalkers makin space between them, perhaps just his defense, or perhaps meant to menace.

She finishes her current sequence, a series of strikes at the air meant to keep an opponent off guard and off balance, before she lets her body ease.  She turns towards him, empty eyes opening, feet slightly apart, hands clasping at her mid back as she adopts a Military parade rest and takes in Percival.  “Come after you to reclaim something?  No, and of the crown?  Not in years.  I left my service to the Holts long ago,” a smile curves on her unpainted lips.  “Not many noble houses with a lot of need for a blind guard, though it turns out, even when you can see every possible reality, you’re still the scum at the bottom of a barrel in all of them.”  A hand leaves her back, moving to glide fingertips along the right arm of her glasses, dialing in the magic that helps focus her vision.

“Ha,” the barked laugh reverberates and echos with Percival’s mask.  He makes a gesture, any number of gestures, and the hounds, imps, succubi, eyes, whatever demons escort him, enter a state of rest.

“Blind as you may be, seems you finally see the truth of Stormwind; of humanity.  Once they see your darkness, you’re something to be thrown away and forgotten.  It’s almost poetic.”  He too adopts a position of comfort, one of either bravado or ease with hands behind his back.

What she tries not to let show is how badly she’s trembling.  The shudder in her body, the pain at the back of her head.  Having eyes open and putting on this little show of bravado is exposing herself to chaos.  She sees the man in the metal mask.  An old man.  A young man.  A shambling corpse.  A Nathrezim.  He walks amongst lush fields of wheat.  Of dead and dying grasslands.  Amidst bowing and adoring followers.  Amidst the dead and dying, bodies on stakes.  Her trembling hand continues its movement along the arm of glasses, attempting to dial in the things she knows are true.  The man in the metal mask.  Golden dying fields.  The pain at the back of her head squirms in protest.

Hand drops from the arm of glasses, settling back into Parade Rest.  There’s nothing more she can do to focus her vision, settling for occasionally closing her eyes to quiet the void.  "I was surprised when Stormwind took us in at all in the first place...but then, they needed soldiers for the fight they wanted to spin up for the Horde. Our so called leaders seemed eager enough to give them that so...smart move."

None of this banter is why she’s here.

“It’s been a long time Percival, though not nearly long enough in my years.”

“Not long enough, and yet you’ve come back to the last place we crossed paths.  So either it’s mere coincidence that we happen to be in this wasteland of a region at the same time.  Or you’ve come lookin for me.  As a gambling man, my money is on the latter.  What do you want?”  Percival sees through Serelia.  It’s true, there’s no reason for the blind mother to be in a place like this, other than to seek the man who still hunts it.

“You’re right, I sought you out.  Much as I hate you...and in particular the...little gifts you had sent my way over the last few years.”  She shudders a little, though tries not to show it, thinking on the parts that arrived on her doorstep.  The man has a sick sense of humor.  “I still think you might have value to me.”

“And here I was worried they’d be lost in the mail,” Percival’s reply is marked with another laugh reverberating from within the metallic mask that hides his face.  “At least Stormwind’s postal service is reliable!”  The laugh becomes a veritable cackle.  

It cuts off abruptly though like a switch shut off, all seriousness retaking him as his mask focuses squarely on Serelia.  “So then.  What do you want?”

“Knowledge,” Serelia replies, remaining at comfortable ease, even as she trembles and writhes inside.  Her headache squirms.  “The rumors say that on top of whisking away innocents, and stealing the journals of young maidens,” as if anyone would actually call Rian that, “that you amass knowledge of all sorts of magic.   You’re not my first choice, but where others have failed, maybe you won’t.”

“The rumors are true,” Percival confirms as he closes the distance.  No longer wishing to shout, or perhaps continuing to show bravado in the face of one of the few people on this world who have gotten close enough to do him real physical harm.  “Unlike some wizards you might have spoken with, I learn about all magics.  Taboo or otherwise.”  The hounds part to flak the Ren’dorei, pincering her, creating a half circle of danger around the woman, but conspicuously leaving her rear free.  Perhaps a push to make her flee, to test her resolve.

“What makes you think I’d share anything with the woman who stabbed me?  You say I’m of value to you.  What value are you to me?”  The words don’t surprise Serelia.  She was prepared for him to try to make a deal of this.  It doesn’t stop a hint of a smirk at the memory of her hand razors sinking beneath his armour.

“If you have the knowledge that helps me control this,” Sere briefly lifts a hand from her back once more, indicating her eyes as they open wide again, revealing in full the dark endless nothing like bottomless wells in her face, “I would be willing to consider sharing my sight with you.  The Void shows reality in its fullness.  I see through illusions, through disguises, through hidden things both magic and mundane.”

Her hand returns to her back, and she ignores the threats around her, holding her ground.  Serelia has lived a long and dangerous life, survived every War that has hit Azeroth in the last two hundred years.  “I’m sure someone of your means and breadth could find a use for that.”

“Clairvoyance in exchange for control, an interesting proposition.”  Percival nods, seeming to truly consider the offer on the table.  “Well I can tell you now.  I don’t have the answer you’re after with me.  I may be a polymath of magic, but I’m still a summoner first.  But I may have something of value that could help you gain some sense of control over your dark powers.”

There’s every impression the man must be hiding something, but whatever it is isn’t visual, not on any spectrum the Void sighted woman can see.  It doesn’t matter, she always knew this deal would come with strings and complications.  It’s why he’s a last resort.

“You have your deal with this devil, Miss Evensong,” Percival proclaims, extending a hand out to her to shake and bind it.

For the briefest moment, Serelia considers attacking.  It would be easy to take advantage of their proximity.  Her vision shows it to her too.  She sees her hand lunge out, razors snapping into her palm.  Sees the spurt of blood fountaining in her vision as it slips beneath his jaw.  Into an armpit, through a weak joint at the hip.  None of it is real, and she doesn’t act on it, at the end of the day while she might kill him, there’s no assurance she wouldn’t get herself hurt in the process, and she won’t risk denying Zara of her mother.

“I don’t see that we can ever be allies,” her hand clasps with his, firm and calloused from a lifetime of combat, “but the knowledge I need comes from darker places than I have access to, and I’m comfortable paying for it in service.  So we have our deal.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Percival’s words are curt, and he turns on his heel, giving her his back.  She doesn't act on it.  “I’ll meet you here, at this exact spot, in two days time,” his voice carries back towards her, he holds up a hand and what she can guess is two fingers, in spite of the magical tuning of her glasses starting to lose further focus as possible realities splinter off.  “And feel free to bring a bodyguard or two.  I certainly shall!”

A sharp whistle pierces the air, and the demons that follow Percival rustle the dried grasses of Westfall as they heel to his side, and he walks from view.

Serelia sees him leaving too, and in every possible way.  Dozens on dozens of Percivals in different shapes and sizes and forms mount, and portal, and sprint, and walk.  Multitudes on multitudes, but in common...all of them leave.  None turn and attack, none stay to kill her.  The void doesn’t seem to consider that that reality existed in this moment.  Interesting.

“Two days,” spoken quietly to herself as she turns from the spot to head up the road towards Elwynn, and home.  

One card has been lain on the table.  There’s still another to pursue during the two day wait.  A name whispered and rumored amidst underground fighters and illegal combat rings.  A woman who fights unlike any other, who whispers say fights like she has precognition, like every movement of her opponents is visible and known to her before they even make them.  ‘Darah’.  It’s not much to go on, and legends rarely prove to be as true and as large as stories make them.  Serelia though, is sure her time is limited, and wild rumors make firm allies of the desperate.

Her headache squirms.

[ Written alongside @thalsianiii; vague allusions to @kat-hawke​ ]

[storiesofsass]

Warning: somewhat incoherent rambling

So I posted a reply to @marinaredwixi post about Obey Me.

But I don't think Solomon, Diavolo or even God himself is going to be the bad guy here.

Sure they all have a hand in the mess that's going on for their own interests and that's quite important and I have a theory about it but they aren't the ultimate villain here.

Then who is? And my answer is Lilith.

Now, why Lilith? If anything, she's been nothing but nice to us when we do interact with her, she's placed on a pedestal and from what we know of her, she's pretty great.

Now, I've spent too many sleepless nights playing MM and other otome/games but there's one thing I know and it's never to trust anything that sounds too good to be true.

All the information we have about Lilith comes from naturally biased sources. We actually know nothing about the true Lilith outside of the rose colored glasses of the brothers.

What we do know however, is that she's connected to us somehow either by ancestry or something else. (Personally, I think it's both)

She's dead and a ghost

She's kinda the reason for the war as far as we currently know. (She isn't however, the reason for Satan's birth and I stand by that. Lilith's sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back so to speak or not since there's something that brothers me about a certain Devilgram's story)

Everything else just sounds way too good to be true. I've read Belphie's Hatred Devilgram too many times and during the game of Guess Who her description read too much like a Mary Sue's

Someone who can say things that could surprise Asmo, gets along with everyone.

Someone who is kind and loves humans

But also a little mischievous

I rolled my eyes so hard at it but something jumped out at me during my 100th reread of the Devilgram.

Every description given except Belphie's to a point was more or less nothing but praise.

There's nothing that they mentioned that could be a negative trait.

Not even Lucifer, everything shown was practically laden with icing and sugar.

Now within the context of the Devilgram, it makes sense, as it was a dream of a memory Belphie had while talking to MC while he was still in the attic. A happy memory of a time where he actually used to get along with Lucifer.

Now, we are going to talk about an entirely different event, I'm getting somewhere ok. I have to discuss this before I can move on to the big picture.

Belphie as we know, is an unreliable narrator, mostly because of the rose colored glasses, mostly because he's manipulative.

So the whole argument with Lucifer and how Belphie got in the attic can only be told by one other person.

Lucifer.

But he's also an unreliable narrator.

Pride isn't going to let him tell the version of the story that makes him look bad and he didn't, maybe it was because I read the Unspoken Feelings Devilgram before reaching that chapter but Belphie's behavior in both stories don't match up with each other.

In Lucifer's story, Belphie is confrontational and looking for a fight

In the Devilgram, while initially confrontational, Belphie cools off by the end.

Let's say he gets locked up in the attic the next day, he wouldn't have gone in guns blazing like that.

That isn't Belphie's personality and as we saw in the Devilgram, he wasn't in any state of rage.

He only goes into a state of rage when he believes that Lucifer betrayed him by placing Diavolo over him (Belphegor).

Now this creates an interesting plot point.

The betrayal in itself.

We know that Lucifer's loyalty is because of the deal he made with Diavolo, the reason for his response is because Diavolo could and would do much worse and his hands would honestly be tied in that situation.

For many reasons but also for an important one.

The brothers, despite all the arguments, fights etc would always put each other over everything.

After all doing so is the reason they fell from heaven.

We see this in action when Beel finds out about Belphie being in the attic. When Lucifer attacks Beelzebub, Asmodues asks Lucifer why would he intentionally hurt his brother like that while looking hurt.

Beel also sees what Lucifer did as a betrayal, as he locked up Belphie against his will and lied to everyone.

It's essentially an unwritten rule that guides them.

So what happens when one of them is clearly the bad guy?

So about Lilith.

I believe that Lilith had a hand in manipulating Belphegor.

We had seen that she could

1. Interact with the brothers in their dreams (ie. Telling Beel in his sleep to save Belphie)

2. Manipulate reality or people to a degree (whatever she did in chapter 16)

Now, we know that she has been waiting for us, she tells us that, but for how long?

If she knew that we were special, what's stopping her from knowing what could possibly happen as well and pushing for a series of events that benefits her.

Belphie, already plauged with thoughts and a very rapidly degrading mental health status, edged on by Lilith to talk to Lucifer would lash out like that.

Something else to note is that Belphie is a night owl and Lucifer is an insomniac, that conversation could have happened mere hours after the first confrontation while everyone would be dead asleep. Explains why no one heard or knew anything. And the ending of Unspoken Feelings Devilgram being a discussion between Beel and Belphie before they go to bed.

Let's think of a timeline or reality where Belphie didn't go in the attic.

For starters, he wouldn't have made a pact with us. Being attracted to us is a bit uncertain tbh.

We won't have made the bonds with the brothers that allowed us to make the pacts either, outside of Mammon.

Every pact (except Mammon) we have made was a direct cause of Belphie being in the attic.

Levi's was because we needed the CD so we could distract Lucifer to be able to head into the attic

Beel, Asmo, Satan happened because we were actively looking for pacts with the brothers so we could free Belphie

Belphie did it as a love confession and you can't convince me otherwise.

Lucifer's was because of everything that happened, you had singlehandedly repaired a lot of the damage between the relationships of the brothers, you are essentially a replacement for Lilith and his pride hates feeling left out as much as it hates feeling like he's giving up control.

You would have had a mundane year and left provided that dear ol Belphie didn't use the opportunity to show his brothers how awful humans are and make your life hell.

Lilith would have known this and would have gotten him temporarily out of the way, not only saving him from Diavolo but grooming MC to take her place.

MC is currently the new Lilith among the brothers but instead of being a cute little sister, they are the person everyone wants to fuck.

This creates a strange balance among the brothers.

Sure they are all competing for your affections but the unspoken rule among them keeps them all in check as to how far they are willing to go to get it.

Great, now MC is the one thing that brings them together, wouldn't it be funny if something were to happen to them?

Let's go to Lilith's conversation with MC.

She mentions that she had lost her path back to the Celestial Realm and implies that she wishes to go back.

We know this is a bad idea as mere moments before Levi was talking about how pissed the Celestial Realm would be if they would found out Lilith lived and MC, now her closest desendant in terms of connection would have to answer the call.

Let's go back a bit more to when Luke was staying in HoL.

How did Luke know how to find the grimmore? We never got the answer from him and I have reason to believe that Lilith is the reason.

Timeline of events is as follows, MC and Beel put Luke in the closet but he disappears, when they find him again it's because Lucifer is pissed because Luke found the Grimmore.

My theory is that when they put Luke in the closet, Lilith took him to the coffin and with it the grimmore.

I mean both just so happens to be connected to our dear ol Lilith.

Lucifer would have killed Luke if Beel and MC didn't step in thanks to Mammon.

That would lead to the Celestial Realm not being very happy about it and would definitely lead to either a power struggle or worst case scenario, all out war.

So does our current scenario with MC becoming the new Lilith and the Celestial Realm and by extension the brothers in another case oh so finding out that Lilith is alive.

Case 1. The Celestial Realm after Luke and Simeon inevitably report back to Michael about their experience in the Devildom, does their own investigation on MC and somehow finds out they're the desendant of Lilith, they'll want answers and the brothers would now be threatened by any move the Celestial Realm takes against the MC and would react to anything they consider a threat.

Case 2. MC helps Lilith get back to the Celestial Realm. Again, the Celestial Realm wants answers but this time the brothers get to know that Lilith was alive as a ghost among them for so long. Now that they have Lilith back, they aren't letting her go again not matter what anyone says. MC may or may not be shoved out of the picture except to or especially by their chosen love interest.

Either way, same thing happens. A worse case scenario of war between the two realms.

While Belphie blamed humans for what happened to Lilith, Lilith blames the Celestial Realm and wants to have her revenge.

Note in both cases, the brothers would have no reason to drag humans into it and even have more of a reason to protect humans from being collateral damage.

But Niko, wouldn't that destroy the Devildom too?

Yeah. Remember the memory Lilith keeps showing us? The one where Lucifer makes the deal with Diavolo?

Everything is framed to make it seem like a really sweet moment. But I think otherwise, mostly anyway.

It is a sweet moment that also foreshadows what Lilith is using to manipulate her brothers 'I will do anything to make you happy'

And Lilith's reason for destroying the Devildom as collateral damage.

We all know Lucifer, he hates being controlled. And despite of the cute friendship that he has with Diavolo, Diavolo has all of the control between himself and Lucifer.

Lilith wants to save her brothers. Or rather that's what she thinks she's doing.

The destruction of the Devildom to her would mean freeing them from RAD, from Diavolo.

Then they would all be happy with her or her chosen replacement in MC. Even though Diavolo's plan in having all three realms together would be the kind of thing Lilith would have loved before the war.

Though one of the main themes of the game is about moving on from tragedy.

In order for them to truly move on from Lilith, they need to shatter the rose colored glasses they have on her.

What better way to do that than for her to be the villain?

[likehandlingroses]

Killing Eve has done such a good job of developing Villanelle and making her a character we root for, and it’s because they avoided two obvious choices that don’t (typically) work well: making Villanelle an Other in the narrative—a chaotic force of darkness with few human qualities—OR giving her a sob story that’s supposed to mitigate or explain away her evil actions

Instead, the show has simply allowed us to see the world as Villanelle understands it. And from that reality, plenty of opportunities for humanizing Villanelle arise. If the viewer believes the circumstances, they’ll believe in the character—and love them as they are.

The very first thing we see Villanelle do is mimic a social cue. At the time, that scene comes off as your standard psychopath fare: she knows how to mimic because she’s manipulative and wants you to put your guard down! And that’s not wrong—Villanelle is good at playing with people. She enjoys it, in fact.

But the reality is that someone who has to rely on secondary cues for interactions with others because their own empathy and self-control is low...is also vulnerable when that system fails or reaches its natural limits. Sometimes physically: Villanelle doesn’t always read people who pose a threat to her as dangerous. More often, it is an emotional vulnerability that we see stemming from this.

Villanelle tells Aaron (another likely psychopath) that—unlike him—she wants to interact with people All The Time. Human connection is something she genuinely desires—and there’s people she has affection for. And we see that she’s constructed ways to account for the emotional/mental parts of her that are “missing,” in order to navigate relationships.

She goes to Niko for the Exact Recipe for his shepherd’s pie—that’s what he did for Eve, and so she has to do the Exact Same Thing. She doesn’t quite have the emotional intuition to take that action and say, “why does that make Eve happy and what could I do that’s similar?” She views the act of cooking the dish as transactional. It HAS to be the SAME when she does it...because that’s what worked.

Amsterdam is another such transaction. Villanelle knows that when she does something of note, Eve will show up to investigate. When Eve doesn’t, Villanelle falls apart. The transaction failed, and it puts Villanelle in a free fall because she doesn’t KNOW what else this relationship could or would be based on. And to her, the failure cannot be separated from the relationship, because that’s what the gesture means to her. She’s myopic, incapable of fully appreciating extenuating circumstances...and it emotionally destroys her.

Villanelle’s existential boredom, the way that she seems to not know if she can tell the truth about herself or not...these are manifestations of a personality disorder that are neither glamorous nor intrinsically Evil...especially as we experience them with her. There is something real and resonant about her problems and limitations

and then by pairing those existential, angsty feelings with more mundane, “sweet” manifestations of the same emotional levels and insecurities...we get a picture of a person who feels authentic to us. Not a good person by any means—likely not even someone who can be “saved.” But we don’t need characters to be good or saved; we need to understand them. And by not giving into any kind of insecurity about honestly portraying a person who commits homicide nearly every episode, the show has allowed us to do that.

[sebeth]

Fantastic Four #16

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 A Brief Summary: The return of Doctor Doom.

 Points Of Interest:

·         Johnny returns from flying around NYC to discover the rest of the team has been shrunk to the size of toys. The team promptly returns to normal size. Reed has no clue what caused the size-changing. The team confesses they have been spontaneously changing size for the last week but haven’t said anything because “no one would believe me”.

·         The team consists of a rock monster, a man made of silly putty, a human fireball, and an invisible girl but size-changing is beyond the realm of believability?

·         A mysterious voice announces: “Hah! You fools! You are helpless as putty before my power! This is only the beginning of what I have in store for you!”

·         Silver-Age Doom continues to be a ridiculous goofball as opposed to the world-level threat of modern years. I am endlessly amused by the thought of Doom pranking the Four and hacking into their intercoms to taunt the team. What terrible deed is next? Will he slip Nair into Sue’s shampoo? Or worse, Johnny?

·         Johnny reveals he first shrunk while customizing a car. A small detail that reinforces Johnny’s love of cars.

·         Johnny’s shrinking caused him to fall towards the “deadly fan belt” but he “flamed on” as he always does “in a jam” and saved himself. Unfortunately, the car is toast.

·         Ben was so embarrassed by his shrinking that he “hid in Reed’s guinea pig cage until I could figure out what was going on.”

·         Does Reed love guinea pigs as pets or are they actual “guinea pigs” for his experiments?

·         Reed and Sue’s stories were more mundane and not as fun.

·         An ant overhears Reed’s conversation and informs Ant-Man that the Four need his help. That is an extremely intelligent ant!

·         Ant-Man decides to head to the Baxter Building and assist the team. He orders the Wasp to remain home and “wait for word from me!”

·         The editor’s note informs the readers “Meet the Wasp, Ant-Man’s new partner-in-peril, starting with issue #44 of Tales To Astonish!” “Partner—in-peril?” Please, Janet was a million more times competent than Hank from day one!

·         Hank stops in for a brief “hi-bye” – he gives the team some of his shrinking/growing gas and states he will try to “learn what I can in my own way – back at my lab.” How? Hank spent all of 5 seconds in the building and didn’t take any evidence back to his lab.

·         Reed suspects Hank could be behind the team’s size problems. Reed predicted Hank’s heel turn decades before it happened!

·         Sue protests that Hank is “much too cute” to be evil. How can Sue tell – Hank wears a helmet that covers 75% of his face. Unless she’s into helmets?

·         Ben is helping Alicia with spring cleaning at her apartment when Reed charges in. Reed forcefully propels a tube of liquid down Ben’s throat. Ben reverts back to human and drops the piano he was holding, causing the destruction of the piano. Couldn’t Reed at least wait until Ben put the piano down? It’s pure luck that Ben and Alicia weren’t hurt.

·         Alicia hugs the now-human Ben and states: “Oh, Ben! My darling! Are you hurt? Why do you feel so different? I…I love you so that I don’t want you to change! I don’t ever want anything to change you!”

·         Ben responds: “It’s all right, Sue baby! I’m okay! And nothing’s ever gonna change for us! You can count on that, honey!”

·         The above exchange is awkward on multiple levels. First, “Sue”? The editor was definitely sleeping on the job when he proof-read the issue. And Alicia doesn’t want Ben to regain his human form? That is not a basis for a healthy relationship.

·         Ben reprimands Reed: “Look, Reed, I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do for me, but nothin’ makes sense! I love Alicia, and she loves me best as the Thing. So, why don’t you forget about trying to change me back, and work on some way to make her see again, instead?”

·         Ben and Alicia need to have a serious sit-down talk – she needs to realize it’s up to Ben if he regains his humanity and Ben should ask Alicia if she wants to regain her sight before demanding Reed “cure” her.

·         The trio are interrupted when they hear a girl cry “Flee for your lives! Beware of Doctor Doom! He’s trying to…Oh, help!”

·         We switch to Johnny who is performing flame tricks for his teenage friends. I’m not sure if Johnny’s “Strange Tales” run has started by this point but Glenville High is named as his high school.

·         Johnny’s shenanigans are interrupted by the “Flee for your life” warning.

·         Sue is attempting to discover a way to negate her scent to dogs – by spraying on different perfumes. Needless to say, it doesn’t work. I love you Sue but you are clearly not the scientist on the team. Sue also hears the “Flee” warning.

·         The boys return to the building – Ben has already transformed back into the Thing.

·         Reed – known genius – has deduced the intermittent size changing and the constant “Beware of Doom” warnings can only mean Doom is alive!

·         Reed makes his brilliant deduction just as the team shrinks and is transported to the microworld.

·         Doctor Doom shrinks the team – again- so they are micro even in the microwrold.

·         Doom reveals that he fell into the microworld after his previous encounter with the Fantastic Four. He promptly overthrew the king and Princess Pearla to become the new ruler of the microworld.

·         The boys do well against the henchmen until Sue – predictably – is captured by Doctor Doom. The team is imprisoned in the same cell as the former king and Princess Pearla.

·         Johnny won’t let imprisonment stop his flirtations. He tells Pearla: “The Human Torch is gonna see to it that nobody hurts one little fingernail of that dainty little hand!”

·         Johnny faces stiff competition as Doctor Doom intends to marry Pearla: “Dr. Doom wants to marry me. But I despise him. That is why I am his prisoner, too! He plans to betray this entire world if I refuse him!”

·         I’m assuming Doctor Doom intends to wed Pearla to legitimize his claim to the microworld since she is of the royal line?

·         Pearla warns the Four that Doom has contacted the lizard men of the planet Tok to sell the team as slaves.

·         The boy will be forced into roles that will utilize their powers but poor Sue will be “pressed into service” as a scullery maid. Poor Sue, she receives absolutely no respect.

·         Ant-Man has returned to the Baxter Building and follows the trail to the microworld. The henchmen beat him unconscious and bring him to Doom. You should’ve brought Jan, Hank!

·         Sue devises the plan that allows the team to escape their cell and frees Ant-Man from his bonds! Go Sue!

·         Doom beats a hasty retreat back to earth: “I’ll be waiting for them back on the surface of our world! I’ll give them a reception they’ll never forget!”

·         Pearla asks Johnny to remain in the micro-world: “You are the most fascinating man I have ever met! Must you go to? Perhaps if you remained here?”

·         Johnny demurs: “I can’t leave my pards, Pearla, but mebbe someday I’ll be back.”

·         Next issue: The hunt for Doctor Doom!

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 11--Samhain

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo and company go to a resistance meeting, with many unexpected twists and turns along the way.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

The next morning, Ienzo was sore; he felt it rather distinctly when he moved. There had been a little blood, the night before, but it had sorted itself out. He did not exactly feel enlightened, merely disappointed. He had wanted it to be good, or at least painless. He considered buying himself a dilator, considered spells. He knew next to nothing about sex magic; should that change? Or was he merely thinking too hard about things?

Likely the latter.

Aeleus was waiting for him at the kitchen table. “Good morning, Ienzo.”

“Hello.”

“You seem tired.”

“I… am.”

He cocked his head. Aeleus looked tired himself. “Is everything alright?”

Ienzo hesitated. He wanted someone to talk to; but how embarrassing was it to admit what had happened? That he couldn’t even have proper sex with his own soulmate ? He also knew the longer his pause went on, the more Aeleus would be concerned. “Something did happen, but it should fix itself.” He hoped.

He nodded. “I know we… are not so close anymore. But know I am a patient ear, Ienzo.”

He smiled. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

Ienzo made them both omelettes. He needed, more than ever, the neat order of cooking. Perhaps he was more upset than he thought; though he did know that increased emotionality was a side effect of his pills.

“Kind of you,” Aeleus said. “You always were a little chef--though your idea of meals back then were a lot less palatable.”

“I’m sure Even’s been feeding you gruel,” Ienzo said.

He cracked a small smile. “He never did see the body as more than a vessel.” For a moment they ate in silence. Then, “Will you come with me to the Samhain meeting?”

“Yes. Moreover… I have… some interested parties.” When Aeleus’s expression did not change, Ienzo added, “They do not know who I am exactly. But these are also magic users. They sense me. And Demyx.”

“I should like to finally meet him.” He twirled his fork idly.

“I don’t think of them mean any ill will. And apparently I’ve met Kairi. Though I do not remember. I never thought I would be an unreliable narrator.” Ienzo shook his head.

“She was only four when she met you --I’m surprised she remembers as well. But given her magic… I’m not surprised.”

“What is her line?”

“It has to do with the heart, and memory. Her power comes from within, unlike yours, which connects you to the magic of the earth."

“...Must be part of why she has a normal hair color.” Ienzo sighed.

“Indeed. Ansem was fascinated by it, naturally. His own heart always  was with the sciences, not… petty bureaucracy.”

“As was yours, if I recall correctly.”

“And now I use that knowledge to undermine Xehanort.”

“If my parents had not passed, I wonder where you might have gone,” Ienzo murmured. “All of you.” This he did not remember at all; their deaths, comparatively speaking, had been mundane. A car accident, of all the things, and Ienzo’s mother had been too incapacitated to use her magic to save them.

“I doubt that would’ve stopped all that came next. Dwelling on it will only cause you pain.”

“...I know.”

Aeleus scooped up the last remaining bits of egg. “When we go… would be best if you wore a hat. Moreover, we should split up.”

“Then what should I tell Riku and Kairi?”

“There’s an abandoned mansion in the woods. Tell them to meet us there shortly before nightfall.”

He nodded. “Right. I’ll have Demyx meet me here.”

“Do you know if the boy has any combat experience?”

Ienzo thought of the afternoon with the Heartless. “I highly doubt it.”

Aeleus sighed. “Very well.”

The rest of the day, Ienzo waited with an anxious excitement for time to pass. His coursework provided little distraction, even though Eraqus had given him an independent research project. He dressed comfortably, but anonymously, and headed down into the basement.

The previous owner or tenant must’ve had plans to finish the space; there was drywall covering the cinderblock walls, but the floor had yet to be insulated. Considering their utter lack of possessions, it was mostly open, empty space other than the water heater. It had a damp, musty smell to it. Ienzo cast an additional ward on the door and sat on the blanket he’d brought down.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, letting himself feel it spread down to his lungs. He tried to slowly wake the magic, but it was a hungry thing, and rose immediately to his skin. Hence, why he’d wanted to do this down here. He kept breathing, trying to keep his thoughts orderly, calm. He could sense Aeleus moving around in his bedroom upstairs; Even was in the study, writing. Once he thought he was sufficiently centered enough, he stood.

When Ienzo was younger, the magic was more volatile, exploding out of him whenever he had a sudden wave of feeling. Sometimes this had a positive or neutral effect; making plants explode into growth, or suddenly having lights fly out of his hands. Others… not so much. Once a temper tantrum had knocked all of the books off of Ansem’s shelves in his study. Controlling it had taken time; and considering how he’d grown up, he’d had a lot of time getting to know his own power. He could make people see things, hear things. Elemental spells came with ease, as well as healing spells. If not for his physical body, his power would be almost limitless.

Ienzo understood why Xehanort wanted him so badly. Ienzo could be a weapon. Else… a threat to be eliminated.

With the magic humming freshly and readily under his skin, he generated some fake Heartless for himself to fight, tossing his own emotions at them to make them unpredictable in this fight--his embarrassment, his shame, his disappointment. This settled… he struck out at them with a sort of fury, the blades of the magic sharper, their color more intense than he remembered. Was it possible that Demyx was not only masking him, but making his power stronger ?

All the fakes gone, Ienzo was breathing hard, and was sweaty. He noticed that the soreness in his hips was gone; the magic had healed it away. He was just wondering if it were worth taking another shower when his phone buzzed.

I’m here. Demyx.

They hadn’t talked too much since their failed attempt at sex, not that it had been long. Ienzo wasn’t fully sure what to say, but he did want to embrace him. He dismantled the ward and climbed back up the stairs. “What on earth were you doing down there?” Even asked, pouring himself what Ienzo was sure was his dozenth cup of coffee.

“Keeping myself limber--the way you tell me to.”

Even just rolled his eyes.

“Demyx is here. Be nice.” He crossed through the kitchen to the front door and hurriedly brushed some of the dust off of his pants. Ienzo heard rain pattering outside; it must’ve started recently. He opened the door.

“Lovely weather, huh,” Demyx said lamely, lowering the hood of his jacket. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

A beat.

“How are you… doing?” he asked.

“Alright, I suppose. Yourself?”

“...Okay. Dunno if I should be nervous for this or not.”

Ienzo ushered him in. The clothes he was wearing were much darker than normal. “All you have to do is look pretty and be near me.”

A sigh. “Yeah. I know. Adventure, and all that.”

Ienzo smiled a little. He leaned up to kiss him once. “One of my guardians will be going with us.”

Even poked his head into the room.

“Good to see you again. Even, right?”

Even frowned a little. “You’re--” He put a hand to his head. “I completely forgot that ruffian we met that afternoon had a name.”

“...And not exactly a common one,” Demyx said. “That ruffian is right here.”

A faint blush rose in his face. “You’d better take care of him,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s my whole thing.” A shrug.

“I think we’ll survive,” Ienzo added.

Even acted like he hadn’t heard him. “You do realize how important his life is?”

“Do I realize. I was given this , wasn’t it?” He pulled out the pendant. “Look, man. This is the only thing I can do right, so let me.”

Aeleus came down the stairs then. Ienzo didn’t know what he’d expected; Demyx’s free-flowing nature was bound to clash with Even’s anal-retentiveness. “Are you ready to go, Ienzo?” he asked.

“...Quite. Come on then, Demyx.” Ienzo slid his hand into his.

The three of them headed out into the rain. It was a light fall rain, bringing with it freshness and the salt of the sea. Demyx lifted his head slightly, letting it kiss his face. “Rain always makes me miss home,” he murmured.

“I know you are a… seeker,” Aeleus said. “Where does your line originate?”

“Destiny Islands.” The street shone faintly in the rain, especially as the sun set in earnest. Unprompted, Demyx added, “we… were what you’d call sirens. I didn’t even walk on two legs until I was ten. Normally we can shift at will. Normally.”

Demyx hardly ever talked about his past with Ienzo, even since some of his memories returned; he normally focused on more lighthearted minutiae of their days.

Aeleus’s curiosity broke his usual quiet. “What was that like?”

“ Really weird. Everything just seemed so dry , and my skin was so itchy . I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The doctor just said it was trauma.”

“Because you washed up on the beach?” Ienzo asked.

“Yeah,” he said, and his eyes had gone distant. “All of a sudden it felt like… something was missing. That part of me… was just gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly.”

“Have you tried, since then?” Aeleus asked.

He nodded. “No go. Almost drowned myself a few times, trying.” With a laugh, but it lacked humor.

It was a miracle he didn’t resent Ienzo, he thought. Then, given their bond, was that possible? He didn’t want Demyx to hate him. “I have magic,” he said quietly. “Maybe I can fix that.”

Ienzo could see he was trying to bite back the hope. “You think?”

“What’s the point of having this power, if I can’t do anything with it? I will try. For you.”

“Power should always be used to help others,” Aeleus said.

“Is there anything else you remembered?” Ienzo asked in a low voice.

“Mostly just… stuff with my parents,” he admitted. “Just normal… stuff. Are we almost there?”

Ienzo did not push it farther.

The trees of the woods only made the rain louder, the sunset still darker. Aeleus’s flashlight soon became one of their only points of light in this darkness. Demyx squeezed his hand a little harder.

“Afraid of the dark?” Ienzo asked, only partially teasing.

“Nope,” Demyx said, but it wasn’t at all convincing.

The path crossed over with an old cobble road that must’ve been in use when the mansion was active, and eventually opened up into a clearing. The building must’ve once been beautiful, though now it was crumbling and derelict; its turrets had peeling shingles, its wide front windows were filthy and cracked, and the stained glass in its small clocktower had pieces missing. The black iron gates had been opened, leading to a garden with overgrown bushes and marble arches that were falling apart. Ienzo could just barely see Sora, Kairi, and Riku by the front door.

“You made it!” Demyx said cheerfully.

“And now my favorite boots are covered in mud,” Kairi added, with a sigh. “Oh well.”

Aeleus pushed open the double doors. Someone had clearly been through; candles had been lit in the rusty candelabras, and there were footprints in the dirt leading to another room. They stumbled over broken bits of inlaid parquet.

“You guys sure this isn’t a trap?” Sora asked. “Seems kinda creepy to me.”

“It is very safe,” Aeleus said.

“I think between us we can handle a Heartless or two. What, you chicken?” Riku asked.

He flushed. “Am not!”

They followed this trail of candles into a small study which seemed normal until Ienzo noticed the trap floor; only Aeleus’s quick hand stopped Demyx falling down the hidden set of stairs.

“Ever graceful,” Riku muttered.

“Shut up .”

But the steps were strange; jarringly metal and modern, and very clean . Sconces shone dimly in the metallic darkness.

“Let me go first,” Aeleus said. “Just to make sure.” He disappeared into the other room. After a pronounced silence, where they all looked at each other, Aeleus added in an odd voice, “Ienzo? Can you come through--just you?”

“Wait,” Demyx said.

“I trust Aeleus,” Ienzo reassured him quickly. “There must be a reason.”

Ienzo took a few steps… and realized why very quickly. With his magic so close to the surface, he could sense Aeleus’s energy… and the energy of one other.

He thought his knees might give out, and he took another few halting steps. “Father.” It sounded more like a bleat, a cry, then a word. “Father.”

Ansem had aged considerably in the past twelve years. His blond hair, once well-kept, was longer, and there were more wrinkles around his eyes than Ienzo remembered, but the warmth in those eyes was still the same. “Well met, little Ienzo.”

He couldn’t help it. He all but threw himself into Ansem’s arms. Tears he didn’t realize he’d been holding in were suddenly streaming out of his eyes. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see him again. He shouldn’t smell exactly the same, like oranges and coffee.

“I wish I could’ve seen you sooner, child. I know.” He could hear the tears in Ansem’s voice as well. “You’re so tall.”

It took Ienzo longer than was dignified to stem the flow of tears. Finally he did, and pulled away from Ansem at least enough to look him in the eye.

“Look at you,” he said softly. “I can hardly believe it.”

He swiped at his eyes. Slowly, he took off his hat, letting his hair fall back into his normal style.

“You look so like your father.”

“Where have you… been?” Ienzo asked slowly.

“In hiding. Much like you. But I have been… trying to devise a way for us to be together again. That starts here, with this resistance.”

“You’re its leader?”

Ansem laughed; Ienzo realized he’d forgotten what it sounded like. “Heavens, no. I’m not certain one could say we have a leader. Even so… I wish for you to have a good life, Ienzo, and for our people to be safe. This is one of the ways to do so.”

“Are you… disappointed in me, then?”

“Why ever would I be?”

Ienzo found it hard to meet his eyes. “Risking myself… for whatever might come from this?”

“Not at all. Your determination to make change is admirable.”

A beat of silence. Ienzo did not know what else to say. “I am… tired of waiting around,” he said. “How can I simply go to school while the darkness advances? While Xehanort wreaks… what kind of hell?”

His expression darkened. “Yes… I believe they were going to speak on that tonight.”

“...Quite.” He paused. “Moreover…” He reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out the pendant.

“Oh…” Ansem sighed. “Child, you must understand… they promised you protection. I did not know--”

“It came with a body? Even said the same.” He ran his fingers along the glass. “He… is here with me.”

“That is a comfort. And I understand… you may be resentful. Naturally so.”

“My life has been without choice. Of course I want to do something now.”

A small smile. “Of course.”

“Would you want to meet him?” Ienzo asked.

“...Alright.”

Ienzo felt oddly numb as he climbed the stairs. The others were waiting patiently; Kairi was braiding Riku’s long hair as they watched something on Sora’s phone. Demyx, on the other hand, had an anxious, pinched look on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked instantly. “You look like you’ve been…” He reached out to touch Ienzo’s face.

“Come with me.” He took Demyx’s hand and led him down into that metal room.

Seeing Ansem, he gasped. “Oh--uh--your majesty--” He bowed a little.

“None of that,” Ansem said. “My name is Ansem. A king in exile is no king, is he?”

Demyx’s smile was very nervous. “This is why you were upset.”

Aeleus, who had been tactfully silent, finally said, “I didn’t want to say something sooner… lest it didn’t pan out.”

“Thank you, Aeleus. I know this was difficult.”

“Sorry--I’m just shook,” Demyx said. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I mean, I knew you were the prince and all, but like--”

“...The prince?” another voice said from the stairs. Riku crossed his arms. “Sorry to crash the party, your majesty.”

They would’ve found out at the meeting, but Ienzo felt the chagrin anyway. Ansem sighed.

“Oh my gods!” Sora’s hands snapped to his mouth. “You mean this whole time you’ve been--”

“I kinda knew,” Kairi said, with a shrug.

“You knew and you didn’t say anything?”

Ienzo’s blush deepened. “Yes, yes, king, prince. We’ve got it.”

Sora frowned. “But if you’re the prince--where’s the princess?”

Ienzo cocked his head a little.

Comprehension dawned on him. “Oh! Sorry, I--”

“It’s okay. And I presume you know you must all carry this secret with you.”

Riku chuckled a little. “Why wouldn’t I? Things just got interesting. Though I’m surprised you got this one to keep a secret.” He thumped Demyx on the shoulder.

“Ow! Hey--”

Ansem laughed too. “These are the reinforcements Aeleus told me of, then.”

Ienzo shook his head. “Quite.”

He approached Kairi. “It is good to see you’re well. And your parents?”

“They’re good too.”

“We should head in,” Aeleus said. “It’s getting late.”

The next room was yet more metal, glowing panels on the floor adding extra light. A handful of people were already there; a woman about their age with a long brown braid, a young man with a scar across his face, a middle-aged blond man, and of all people--

“ Yuffie ?” Demyx asked.

“Guys! Hey!” She was cross-legged on the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

“ Resisting . Duh.” She rolled her eyes.

“But how long have you--”

Her cheer faded a little. “Since my dad died last year,” she murmured. “I kinda took it up for him.”

Yet more voices from the doorway. “Sorry we’re late,” a woman said. “Believe it or not--the train was delayed.” She had a bright blue bob. With her was Even, carrying papers and looking pissy.

There were a lot of people in this small room now. Ienzo knew that soon the air would probably start feeling stuffy. He had so many questions--for them, for Ansem, about this place, about Xehanort, about… everything. All of these magical fields brushed up against his, making him anxious.

Demyx rubbed his arm. “Power, huh,” he muttered. “Yuffie. Who would’ve thought.”

“Can we come to order, please?” the scar-faced man asked tiredly. “Lot of new faces today. I was asked not to point out the obvious about our special guest, so I won’t. Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves?”

They did. Ienzo learned the blue-haired woman was Aqua, their longtime contact; she gave him a little wink.

“Why are we in this creepy basement?” Sora asked.

“Lotta power in this room,” Riku told him. “Being underground helps keep it from being too obvious. The metal does too.”

“The girls are keeping watch upstairs,” the woman with the braid, Aerith, added. “They’ll let me know if they sense anything.”

The circle had reached him. Demyx gave his hand a small squeeze. Ienzo looked towards Ansem, who nodded once. Not only was he outing himself as royalty, but he was also quite literally outing himself.

Get over it, he thought to himself. These people all knew some level of persecution; would they truly care about gender? “My name is Ienzo,” he said in a low voice. “But more likely… you know me as Ansem’s adopted child… _____.”

He kept his eyes on the floor as the revelation filled the space, a mixture of surprise and smug knowledge in equal parts. He saw Even’s lips flatten into a thin line, his disapproval clear. But he did not protest.

“I hope I may be of use to you. My power. I am tired of hiding and taking advantage of your good grace. Part of this havoc is because of me. I can’t lie back and take it anymore.”

The blond man laughed. “Well, we’re lucky today, ain’t we,” he said around the toothpick in his mouth. “Not one, but three bluebloods. I see you there, Miss Kairi.”

She blushed.

“All that power means something,” Aqua added. “Given Ienzo’s reach… if you’re truly willing to do this…”

“A trump card to turn the tide?” Leon asked. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“I am willing.”

“It might give people hope, to know you’re still alive,” Aqua said. “If not the public… than the very least the other members.”

“That this fighting isn’t for nothing?” Ienzo sighed. “I hope so. Tell me everything. Please.”

Ansem had said there was no leader; but the man named Leon seemed to be most comfortable doing the talking. He outlined the situation for Ienzo; Xehanort so far was determined to take the nation city-state by city-state, spreading his darkness across the nation from one coast to the other. He seemed to have created a second front as well, moving down towards them from the north. Hearing the casualty reports was… sobering.

“Why is nobody reporting this at all?” Ienzo asked.

“The masses would panic,” Aerith said. “Not to mention… where would they go ? Twilight Town is safest at the moment.”

“And the governments are just lying like dogs?”

“It seems… to a degree… Xehanort is willing to see some kind of reason,” Leon added, his lip curling. “If a city surrenders to him… he does apparently offer some kind of protection to the civilians.”

“The trolley problem,” Riku muttered. “Better a few die than all.”

“Quite,” Aeleus said gravely. “Moreover… what of these Heartless? They’ve been breaking through the city wards, and apparently beginning to show some kind of sentience.”

Aqua touched Even on the shoulder; he nodded once. “I’ve been looking into that,” he said. “I’m afraid… the truth is not for the faint of heart.” Ienzo cocked his head; Even scowled. “What? Child, you don’t think I sit around all day doing nothing but wait for you to come home?”

Yuffie tittered. Ienzo’s face heated.

Even gathered himself; his face lost all expression. “Heartless are supposed to be merely shadows, but the information I’ve been gathering… is worrying, to say the least.” He shuffled through some of his papers. “There have been… disappearances, if you will, in these areas noted to have higher than normal Heartless populations. At first, it seemed as though these individuals were simply being consumed, as Heartless are wont to do, but… these Heartless are chatty. They mention something about their hearts, about hearts pulled from bodies… and knowing what I know about a person’s heart and the way it is expressed through the aura… My working hypothesis is that these Heartless are being created from humans. Though how… I’ve yet to determine. Darkness can break physics, but so far all the casualties from Heartless have just been… bodies. I’ll need to study further.”

There was just silence for a long time. Ienzo looked at his palms. That Heartless he’d killed before he’d run into Dilan had been a person… he’d killed someone. A hot rush of nausea nearly brought tears to his eyes.

But they were suffering, he thought quickly. Then, could I have helped them become human again?

Even let out a long breath. “Moreover… there’s some circumstantial evidence that Xehanort… is using some of my own personal research to forward his agenda.” He grit his teeth. “ That I cannot let go of.”

“What kind of research?” Leon asked.

“I was looking into ways to create artificial bodies… to help those who have lost physical functioning. It was all theory , and yet… Cid found some concerning surveillance footage in Radiant Garden proper.”

“The replicas…” Ansem murmured. “You don’t think--”

“I’ve no idea what he would need bodies for , nor do I know how he’d animate them.” Even was really getting agitated now.

“Someone has to find out,” Aqua said. “I could investigate and report back.”

“And be safe about it,” Leon said. “If this is possible… we need to know.”

There was a pronounced silence. “Could I do something with my power?” Ienzo asked.

“No,” Even and Ansem said at the same time; Even locked eyes with the king once, his expression growing pained for a moment before smoothing to neutral. “No, it’s simply too dangerous for you,” Even finished. “They’d sense you in a heartbeat.”

“Even if I went with him?” Demyx asked, the fear in his voice audible.

“It’s not worth the risk.”

Ienzo’s fists clenched in his lap. “So what can I do,” he said softly.

Leon’s blue eyes (a cool blue, a normal blue) met his. “I’m wondering…” He began, drumming his fingers on his notebook. “How does your power… work with electronics?”

“I’ve no idea,” Ienzo said honestly, his curiosity piqued.

“Cid,” Leon said, still holding Ienzo’s gaze. “See what you can come up with about the network.”

“Shit, now that’s interesting,” Cid said. “Right on.”

“So should I connect to this network,” Ienzo said. “What then?”

“Think that depends on the true extent of your power. But potentially… well. Hope I haven’t gotten too rusty at hacking.”

Something to hold onto. “Right.”

The meeting ended not long after that. Ienzo was reeling--between the information about the Heartless, and seeing Ansem again, he had no idea how he was supposed to feel. The others broke off, to talk to Leon and see how they might be of use; Demyx squeezed his hand. “Guess I married up,” he murmured.

Ienzo smiled wearily. He could see across the room Even and Ansem in conversation, their expressions sharp, serious. After a moment, Ansem reached out to touch his arm. “Go on,” Ansem mouthed towards Ienzo. “I’ll see you soon.”

Though Ienzo was loath to listen, he also knew that Even and Ansem deserved a proper reunion as well. He let Demyx guide him out of that stuffy room, back up the stairs, and out of the mansion. It was fully night now. “Samhain,” Ienzo murmured. “I wonder if we’ll see any spirits along the way.”

Demyx shuddered. “I dunno. Not sure I want to find out.”

He exhaled. “You’re right--it’s after dark. We should go home.”

They headed back towards the forest. The rain was heavier now, the darkness thicker; Ienzo lit a small orb in his hand to guide them back onto the path. Demyx shuddered.

“It’s alright, if you’re scared of the dark,” Ienzo said. “Fine, especially now.”

“Some protector I am. Can’t even stand the dark.”

There was a whisper behind them, a crunch; Ienzo turned. “Must be one of the others.”

“Are you… sure?”

“Take a breath. It’s okay.” Still, Ienzo moved a little faster. The whispering got louder.

“I don’t know,” Demyx said, with a trace of panic.

“We’re nearly back on the street. They’ll be repelled by the light.”

The whispering surrounded them, a heavy smell of smoke, making the light in Ienzo’s palm dim. Ienzo let the magic wake further, and found to his shock there were more Heartless than he thought.

“I can… I can take them. Don’t worry.” But Ienzo had never seen this many Heartless at once; he had no idea why he hadn’t sensed them before.

There was a jammer.

“Saїx,” Ienzo whispered. “Oh--Ansem.”

“The others can protect him. We need to get out of here.”

“Stay near me. I’m going to… take care of them.” Heartless being made from people.

Ienzo… hesitated.

It was this hesitation they sensed, and they descended onto them, snuffing out his light entirely, shadows screaming.

Find boy find boy

Help me

Who’s the other one?

It’s hurting hurting hurting

Make it stop. Make it stop.

Where’s my wife?

“Ienzo, maybe you should do something?”

It felt like something was tugging at his magic, making him feel weird, weak, numb--

“Ienzo!” A more desperate cry.

“I can’t--I feel--” He tried to conjure magic with his palms, but it was hard to breathe.

“ Ienzo .”

A burst of light, a smell of the sea, and suddenly Ienzo was even wetter than before, and on the ground. Demyx tapped his face; he was doubled, dizzy, his phone flashlight throwing his face into sharp relief. “Demyx? What…” He struggled to sit up.

“I… I did magic, I don’t know how--they’re gone. The ones I didn’t kill I ran away.”

Ienzo tried to gather his strength. The magic seemed to be returning, so slowly… “I smell… vomit.”

“That was… me. I’m sorry. Just--thinking about what Even was saying--”

“Killing people,” he murmured.

“But they’re not people, they were screaming in pain, I heard it--”

“You did the right thing,” he said.

Demyx helped him up. “It was… water,” he said breathlessly. “Water, and… and light, I--I didn’t even know I could--”

“A latent power.”

“Triggered by you,” he mumbled.

“Maybe you… can get your powers back.”

“We need to get home,” Demyx said. “I… I don’t like the look of this place.”

“I hope we were the only ones attacked,” Ienzo muttered. He had to lean on Demyx heavily. “My fathers…” He pulled out his cell phone to text them. The bright screen sent a finger of pain through his right eye, and suddenly everything went black.

[pilted]

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@hamartio​ said :   "color me surprised," the herald's tone just isn't half as poisonous as it should be because of his augments, because of the metallic tone underlying his words. "but i did not expect to see the defender of tomorrow in zaun. not even in the entresol." there's no threat in his tone, just a bitterness typical to whatever interactions they have had the past many years.

              PRIDE'S EVERY SHADE DEEPLY WOVEN INTO HEART,     swelling    &    aching,     incessant beat promoting growth from scarred past     //     such does intact intellect state,     deriving answer from mundane concepts that heart could never begin to understand     ————    constant opposition,     clashing at every opportune moment,     ideological differences at center of conflict,     forced to antagonize one another for sake of progress.     forsaking prior notions of cooperation to pave way for those beneath them     (   oh,     how they must pursue guiding lights of tomorrow   !     how collective gaze of masses fixates on battered mind    &    heart,     whose goals remain in eternal conflict   !!   ),     this was now how it was meant to be.     //     growth comes not from every beat.     in lieu of desired progress,     shard of eternal reminiscence at each heart's bump against chest,     replaying fatal moments of their downfall,     where heart    &    soul,     conjoined under teachings of free will,     advocate for law of nature,     clamor that to be bounded by law of nature    &    not law of man is only possible means to move forward   !

& he still stands by it.

              sought light not a blinding one    ;    rather,     it is virtuous in design,     it is correct,     it is still the best possible solution.     to relinquish control is to forego sense of self.     to be blessed with opportunity to make smallest move,     minute act,     curling of digits for one,     it is to be granted liberty through nature's law.     safety priority,     always has been,     but not at expense of innate control over one's own actions.

& yet, he is here.

              foggy mist over head fails to mask darkness of night,     inky canvas above head,     blessing of light not yet bestowed upon.     supposed twinkling stars did not gleam,     for each star's fate known    :    bright light approaching inevitable dying ember,     marching towards end of time,     extinguished by her merciful hands.     natural light shall not be offered on this descent,     no,     no,     for varied lights of buildings around compensate what illumination drapes over city of zaun    ;    intensity without limits at some corners,     marking each step a natural flow that did not necessitate any prior musing where each foot must land,     no worry,     no worry.     vestiges of guiding light now more apparent with each further step,     treading towards entresol with meticulous steps,     every move slow    &    hesitant as doubt's lingering whispers plague every thought,     every step.     instilled in mind     ...     fear of falling   ?     or shall it be demons of the past,     their endless conquest seizing each untouched corner,     cooing placid sonatas with every intent of bringing to fruition seed of doubt lying at root of heart   ?     no,     NO   !!!

              he can't back down now.     not when he's already here.     (   why are you here   ?   )     to talk to him.     (   nothing will ever be the same   )     at what cost   ?     to remain in silent at stalemate where neither dared entertain thought of confrontation   ?     are they to be land    &    sea,     destined to never meet over theoretical differences   ?     shall stifling air caught in throat never experience flight   ?     gods.     resolute may heart's senses be,     mustered strength cannot be found.

              he stands before his door.     one minute.     two minutes.     five.     ten.     lavenders commit to naught more but gaze at frame,     at unopened entrance,     eyes shifting slightly to own gloved hand,     contemplating success of this     ————    whatever this is.     there is no time for sustained interaction,     for the days where they conversed from dawn's rise to dusk's fall are but honeyed memories that do not reflect current truth,     the objective truth which he so pursues to understand.     fate dictates such    :    strain in relationship continues to exist,     a malign factor that must be ceased to return to far gone glory days.     to speak to him again.     (     oh,     how foolish he for conjuring the thought,     but to dream is to feel,     to feel is to be   )     here to instigate first step,     courage's blessing facilitating his descent to mezzanine of zaun.     to leave behind comfort of city that acclaims him as hero.     to descend into town he'd sworn to never visit at prime of his youth.     to mend what an inventor's hand cannot hope to fix by own means    :    a friendship he yet yearns for   !!

he does not knock.

              deep inhale,     exhale,    &    he resolves to leave,     nearly turning on own heel 'till that door opens before him,     rendering jayce speechless for few moments at that familiar voice.     his voice.     deeply ingrained into each vocable a metallic tone,     a bitterness of the past revived yet again through mere reminder of all that happened.     resentment binded itself to both hearts,     coiling 'round organ,     for the woes    &    sorrow both inflicted on each other,     for the aching pangs at chest that wished for the past,     to return to simpler days,     to again have partner at his side.     he must not falter.     he must not falter.     not before him.     not if very moment was key that conjoined separate paths.     not if future can be crafted to have both at each other's side,     two minds of superior intelligence resolute to seek dulcet middle ground for each theory,     each invention they created.

              ❛     viktor.     ❜     foreign.     movements of the mouth,     drop of his name,     feels so foreign against own tongue,     rising cacophony at heart from slight utterance.     silence ensues,     lights around them dim,     shadows accentuated on jayce's personage    ————————    fortune favoring oncoming bravado,     lilac orbs betraying donned veil.     all for the sake of pride.     ❛    what can i say   ?     i just wanted to take a stroll.     ❜     hearty,     nearly convincing chuckle,     lacking any heart or passion whatsoever.     curve of his lips upward into grin is faux.     it's fatiguing.     this façade shall not be the foundation for brighter future.     it won't.      ❛     found myself here.     ❜     truth is difficult.     it is an obstacle as much as it is a virtue.     brows furrow,     no vestiges of prior grin as lips press into fine line.     for a man acclaimed as light of tomorrow,     there is no light in those eyes who have since then lost their spark upon past's folly.     doubt inhibits progress through perilous journey.     he must eradicate it.     ❛     viktor,     ❜     so comes forthright query,     foot conscious pressed betwixt frame    &    door,     cautious prevention of letting of them escape this.     it's time to stop running.     ❛     can we talk   ?     ❜     he blinks.     once,     twice.     laced in his tone a melancholic bitterness.

              ❛     i'm not taking no for an answer.     ❜

[danetobelieve]

Threat Level: Pizza || Ricky and Winston

Honestly, Winston was tired. In the last week, between them, Ricky and Dee they had spotted and dealt with four alghouls and what Ricky referred to as a spawn. Then last night a pack of three spawn had attacked the house and Winston and Ricky had been forced to deal with them. Winston was pretty proud of the fact that they had managed to immolate one. That had been a feeling like no other. Yet as they stood with a broom in hand, brushing vampire dust off of their porch, Winston couldn’t help but feel like it was time to make a change. Two attacks on their home in as many months wasn’t their idea of fun. Turning to Ricky, who was fixing a window before moving onto the porch railing that had been shattered during the commotion, Winston sighed. “I think that it is time that you and me start thinking about installing some security, and I’m not just talking about the mundane type of security. I think that we need to consider the fact that it might be time to have something other then a kitchen knife available when the next grizzly beasty comes after us.” 

Pausing from his repair work to pick alghoul out of his fangs Ricky nodded emphatically. “I mean. Setting aside the fact that the last time the last time that you and I were involved in some magic together we ended up in a strange prison demiplane inspired by my woodwork and fueled by your magic…. I agree. This is becoming fucking exhausting.” The unending night had made some things that were only comfortable at night far more brazen than they normally were, and a whole subset of those things viewed Ricky as a particularly choice piece of steak, and the house constantly being under siege was wearing on him super fast, “So… I am open to suggestions. As far as super fun magic home defense systems go. All I want you to keep in mind… is that I am very very open to the idea of flame turrets. Very very very open to that idea.” He leaned against the frame of the window and looked out at Winston on the porch, “But, practically, how does it work?” 

“Yeah, I’m not necessarily talking the same sort of magic. I don’t want to get stuck in a pocket dimension that is also a puzzle box.” Winston wasn’t sure what they were thinking, but if they could centralise a number of security features to a central console, then Winston wondered whether including spells into their code as data flags would cause any change in the potential effects. “I don’t want to mess around with magic just yet, for now though we should think about making some supernaturally minded upgrades.” They paused as they considered a few options. “Well first of all we could look into installing motion sensors in the grounds around our house and Dee’s these could activate UV bulbs as security lights, that should at least give any vampires a little bit of trouble.” They considered other options. “Maybe something with salt and iron for ghosts …” they were still so new to this, they weren’t entirely sure what else they could include. “If it isn’t too expensive we should consider getting CCTV, maybe I can work out some enchantment that allows us to see things approaching. Infrared or heat sensitive cameras or something…” they paused and pulled their glasses off, rubbing the end of an arm against their scalp thoughtfully. “Any eureka moments?” 

“Oh come on didn’t you enjoy our little demiplanar excursion into the realm of ‘oh god I hope we’re not dead?’” Ricky paused his repair work and joined Winston out on the porch, sitting down with his back against the warm wood of the porch, “Well… You’re already talking outside my scope of knowledge, but I think you’re right, we don’t really need to be focusing on the human threats, it’s the supernatural ones we need to be worried about.” He pulled out his phone and started to type out notes as Winston was talking. He was more of a old-school kind of guy; the security enhancements that his roommate was talking about were way out of his scope of knowledge, “Are ghosts really a problem though? I think it’s the physical things we have to worry about more. As for CCTV that shit isn’t too expensive anymore with like Ring and Blink and all that shit you can just control it from your phone. And I do mean you I’m sure I’d break it if I tried to control it.” He kept typing as Winston talked before looking up with a raised eyebrow, “if you’re expecting me to have a eureka moment about technology you are in for a dismal disappointment. You’re gonna have to take point on this and I’ll help out however I can. But if you think you can work enchantments into it I’m absolutely down.” 

“No, for some reason I did not enjoy having to endure a minor existential crisis as to whether or not I have died, although I will admit that it is nice to know for certain that I am indeed relatively alive and well.” Winston shrugged before continuing. “No, I think that Dee and her shotgun are more then enough to deal with the potential human criminals, but if we draw the attention of something like Hunters or Vampires or I don’t know, something along those lines then I think that I would want to have something else. I also think we should think about setting up a communication tree with others.” Winston nodded. “I know that it sounds ridiculous, but the one exorcism I saw, back in the library at UMWC was terrifying and I don’t really want to experience it again if I can help it. But I need to really work out how well these cameras will work against fast moving and potentially magic critters.” Chewing on their lip, Winston shrugged. “Maybe you can help me by telling me how feasible it’ll be to set up stuff and we can begin working on sourcing all the things I’ll need to set this up. I can do the techy stuff and you can help me with the actual skilled labour.” 

“Well I had a delightful time so your negative experience is on you. I enjoyed our one on one time inside a magical prison. I think we could market the whole experience to white people with too much money and too much time on their hands. Throw in some bullshit about it being meditative and shit. We could be super rich.” Ricky couldn’t help but laugh at Winston’s mention of their land lady, “Yeah I know one day I’m gonna have to have the “hey you probably shouldn’t have a loaded shotgun in the house anymore” talk with her but we’re a ways off from that and she’s a crack shot with it.” he kept typing away, looking up periodically at Winston as they talked, “Well we’ll add ghosts to the list of things to keep out. I mean I don’t think I can tell you how feasible it all is until we get an actual plan in place but it shouldn’t be too bad. Don’t think it’ll require any actual like renovations to the house, unless you’ve got a plan for a garlic filled moat you havne’t told me about yet.” He dashed inside to grab a pad of paper and came out again, starting to scribble down some ideas, “Wanna order delivery and hash this out?”

“You’re also completely barking mad if you thought that our time in a magical prison was anything like fun,” Winston laughed and shook their head at Ricky, “I think that you could market that shit to normal White Crest people and they would still eat it up. But I don’t think I want to get super rich based on whether or not people are going to make it out of a trick prison.” They paused for a moment and slipped down onto a bench on the porch overlooking their property. “Well make sure that I am nowhere near you or her when you have that conversation.” They raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yes, that sounds like a great idea, and I can use your sketching skills to try and visualise where we are going to put this shit and how it is going to work. We’re going to need shit loads of rock salt, iron fillings, holy water, maybe even silver. Stakes wouldn’t be a bad idea either. I also need pizza and probably some beer too.”

“What can I say, I like puzzles and I’m good at compartmentalizing my feelings. So. I made it fun.” He pulled out his phone and started thumbing through apps, “is that not exactly what an escape room is? Ours would just be a magical escape room where you’re not sure if you’re dead or not! It’s an extra perk; existential crisis added on for free.” Ricky brought up Grubhub with one hand while the other kept scribbling the supplies Winston was listing off, “Meat lovers no cheese extra anchovies for me, what do you want? I’ve got beer in the fridge, I made a supply run when the darkness hit because I didn’t want to leave the house if possible. I’m a vamp magnet.” He started a very basic sketch of an aerial view of the house and the property that surrounded it, “Are we going to have auto turrets for the stakes? I think that’d be noticeable. We should try to be as discreet as possible. Don’t want to draw attention, just protect ourselves.” 

“That sounds like something that a crazy person might say, I think you’re just an adrenaline junkie who likes to put their life in danger because it gets their heart racing.” Winston raised an eyebrow and shrugged gently. “I don’t know if anyone is going to play for a healthy dose of Nihilism Ricky, and also in escape rooms you can usually guarantee the safety of your customers and I’m not convinced that I could.” Winston swallowed gently and decided that they wouldn’t try and recreate the mistake they previously had. No they had other plans, a type of magic that they had yet to find any information on. It made them wonder what could be achieved if they tried some new stuff. But now wasn’t exactly the time for them to do that. Now they had other things to focus on. “Can I get a meatlovers with extra cheese and extra mushrooms?” Winston replied. “I can leave the house if needs be, plus I’m sure that people can drop stuff off to us if you don’t want to risk it.” They were honestly a bit shocked at Ricky’s suggestion of auto turrets. “Dude, this isn’t Doom Eternal, we’re not installing auto turrets mainly because I don’t know how to build auto turrets. NoI think it would be better if we can go with high powered UV lamps and a few well placed stakes around the house. At least until I get better at this stuff, I’m a computer programmer not an engineer.” 

“At absolutely no point in our cohabitation have I ever fucking told you I was a sane person. No false advertising here. That’s just because you haven’t figured out the right marketing spin for it yet. You can market Nihilism to anyone you just gotta put a pretty enough bow on it. But, we’re getting away from the main topic here.” Ricky tapped the orders into his phone, adding on a couple of 2-liters just so they’d have something in the fridge where they didn’t have to leave the house for supplies. “I’d rather you not take any unnecessary journeys since, you know, once again it’s fucking nightmareville up in this place. But if worse comes to worse we’ll make a group run for it.” He laughed at the reference, shaking a fist in the air, “Rip and tear, until it is done!!! You know it may be eternal night right now but it really makes for some amazing ambiance when I’m playing that game.” Ricky nodded and started a shopping list on the side of the paper titled “Death-based Doodads”, “Stakes and UV lamps it is. Though too many UV lamps and people are going to think we’ve got a grow operation here.” 

“My apologies for not considering your sanity as something that could be in question, most people usually don’t expect other people’s sanity to be in question. As for marketing existential crisises and nihilism then that is something that I will leave for you.” Winston replied with a small grin decorating their face. Winston was glad that they weren’t going to have to cook for themselves. They were feeling incredibly lazy after fighting for their night in the middle of the day, even though it was dark. “Don’t worry, I don’t really want to risk facing alghouls and vampires if I can help it, especially not when I know better. I’m not going out as much as I possibly can, I’m just trying to stay home and when I do go out I am making sure that I’m not alone.” Winston shrugged and smirked. “You know, it is not Overwatch, but it is still a lot of fun to kick the shit out of demons, even if I can’t do it in real life.” Winston frowned and nodded. “You’re right, we’ll have to be sensible about where we plant our weed crop, don’t want people to catch us doing anything illegal.” They were being sarcastic, somehow they thought that they would manage to get away with it. They worked for the Police Department after all.

“I really feel like you should have seen that coming though. Marketing existential crises and nihilism are definitely something we could get away with with Gen Z I’m sure of it. Just make the marketing laden with memes and we’ll be all set.” Ricky slid his phone back into his pocket after receiving the text notification that their order had been confirmed, “See. That’s some solid planning right there. In the end it’s gonna be the goddamn buddy system that saves us all.” Rolling his eyes he pushed himself to his feet and wandered back into the house, spreading the papers out on the dining room table so they’d have more room to work, “Yeah yeah yeah you and overwatch. That’s way too much for me to try to wrap my head around. I’ll stick to chopping demons apart with a chainsaw and a variety of super fun weapons. That’s more my speed. Mindless platforming, puzzles, and mayhem.” He laughed as he drew a stool over to sit on, looking down at their plans, “We’ll add a grow operation after we figure out how to protect our home from the supernatural. Even if regular weed doesn’t really affect me much. It’d be a good money maker anyway. But for now we’ll use the UV lamps to attempt to vaporize some vampires.” 

“If we marketed using memes we could, but then that would cut out an entire demographic of baby boomers and the older millennials that wouldn’t get it, so you know, you win some you lose some.” Winston shrugged gently and settled in their seat, looking around them trying to decide what else they could include. “Is stuff like wolfsbane a thing?” Winston asked trying to think of the most generic supernatural stereotypes that they could implement here. “Obviously it is going to take a bit of time before I can really get any of this stuff working, but better to start now rather then later.” Winston was terrified of what some of the things that were out there could do to them and their friends. “Everyone has different preferences and enjoyments, it’s not my fault that your tastes are so far separated from mine which are obviously far superior.” Laughing, Winston shook their head and smiled. “Bro, you remember that I work for the police department. They’re not huge fans of illegal grows that aren’t regulate by the tax man.” 

“Listen. Boomers had their time to shine. They don’t deserve targeted marketing anymore. They can take or leave whatever we give them.” Chewing on his pen for a moment, Ricky pondered for a moment, “I honestly don’t know. You’d have to ask Morgan. Seems like she’d know more about that sorta herbology shit than me. I know there is a whole subset of supernatural related herbs. But I’m right there with you; this will definitely take some time so we might as well get going. Because knowing this town… this darkness could last for quite a goddamn while.” The doorbell rang and Ricky went to retrieve their pizzas, heavily tipping the put-upon looking driver to make up for the extra anchovy stench undoubtedly filling his car, “Grub’s here. And my taste in video games is impeccable. I’m sorry I’m not into games with a gay cowboy, weird angst cyborg asian stereotypes, and people screaming in the headset about their skill rating. Gimme that sweet sweet ‘don’t talk to other people’ gaming.” He set the pizza down on the counter and got them out a couple plates, “Oh I didn’t forget. But I like to think I’m above certain aspects of the law given the great ease with which I can implement plan ‘just hide in the fucking ocean forever’. Which is a solid ass plan.” 

“It doesn’t matter what they do or don’t deserve, proportionally speaking they hold far more wealth then Gen Z or even a good proportion of the millennial population, targeted marketing takes that wealth away from them.” Winston scratched at the thin film of stubble that had sprung up over their jaw. “I’ll put some feelers out and try and find out what else we could to do to really sure up the defenses here, if I was better at magic then I could enchant some more shit but after the last time that went I’m a little bit weary of trying anything big without more practice.” Winston sincerely hoped that whatever it was that was causing this darkness would get resolved soon, but they weren’t about to charge into the darkness and try and change any of it. Not yet anyway. They weren’t that desperate yet. “I love the inherently racist stereotypes that Blizzard brings to me, and if you keep talking McShit about McCree then I’ll cut you.” They grinned and grabbed their pizza from Ricky, slipping down onto the sofa and laughing as Ricky continued their tirade against multiplayer gaming. The irony was that of course in real life they were the exact opposite. Winston was the introvert and Ricky the extrovert that adopted them. “Unfortunately I cannot hide in the ocean forever because I am not an aquatic animal, but you go off.” 

“This took a weirdly capitalist-centric turn; but, I’ll keep all this in mind when I’m planning out how to launch our magical escape room empire. Which is going to have a terrible pun of a name but I haven’t decided what it’s going to be yet.” Nodding along with Winston’s train of thought Ricky opened his pizza box and put a couple of slices on a plate, “I’ll do the same. So we’ll see who knows what and we’ll protect this bitch.” A thought crossed his mind as he chewed on his first piece of pizza, “They’ll have to be disableable though. Things to keep werewolves and vampires and ghosts out. I’m… well Remmy and I… are trying to put together an interspecies clan. To at least offer some sort of unified protection against the hunters. It’s harder to pick us all off if the various species have each others’ backs.” It was hard to laugh and not spit a mouthful of various meats and fish all over his couch, but he managed, “They are really bad about racial stereotypes but you’re more than welcome to McTry. It’ll be super messy though, I’ve got extra blood.” He made quick work of the first piece of pizza and set to work on the second one as he kept sketching things out. “We should have some sort of motion detector at the end of the drive, connected to some kind of camera.” 

“I never knew that I would be starting an escape room empire, but I guess if I was going to do it with anyone then I would want to do it with you.” Winston smiled gently as they placed a piece of pizza in their mouth and chewed on their pizza straight from the box. Winston nodded. “Of course, they’ll be disable-able and hopefully eventually I’ll be able to write something that is sophisticated enough that it will be able to distinguish between who needs the measures in place. But no offense, we’ve not seen any progress there for a while and I know that you want to help these people but we can’t do anything until we’ve made sure that we’re safe. Once we’re looked after then we can look after others, but not before that.” Winston was a realist and they knew that this wasn’t going to be resolved straight away, this was something that they would need to really work on. “Gross, who needs extra blood. Seal it away in my opinion.” They winked and wiped grease from their hands with a piece of tissue from the takeaway before nodding. “Motion detectors at the gates, not to mention in the grounds hooked up to security lights so if anything moves everything gets lit up.” 

“Tides… I would have never considered starting an escape room empire but you and I have some of the weirdest things happen to us, so, I think that that’s pretty on brand for us.” It was a truth; Ricky was realizing. He and Winston definitely had a relationship that seemed to be a magnetic force for strange situations, and he loved it. Life was infinitely better now that they lived together; it was definitely one of the better decisions Ricky had made at a party. “Ooooh I have some bad news for you. We’re never ever going to be totally safe. Welcome to the supernatural life. But, I take your point. We can’t form the Justice League until we lockdown the Fortress of Solitude. Did I mix references there? I don’t really care just roll with it.” Another slice of pizza disappeared into his mouth and he rolled his eyes at the pun, “Alright well for how terrible that was I’m just going to go offer myself to the vampire hordes now. Thanks. Your terrible pun has damned me.” Scribbling at the margins of his page he attempted to not get pizza grease on the plans, “I like that. Plus it makes us look real important.” 

Laughing, mouthful of pizza, Winston looked into the moon for a moment before shrugging. “I think it is pretty on brand, we always end up doing the weirdest shit.” They settled into the silence for a moment and shrugged. “Watch tower not fortress of solitude, though I guess both are DC so it doesn’t count as much? I don’t know. Anyway, you know Orion Quinn right?” Winston was considering their next words carefully, “I think that I’m going to offer him one of the rooms if that’s cool, it seems like he could use a place to go because he is currently staying in that Scribe building way too much for the amount of living that someone our age needs to do, obviously we don’t know him but I think he’s a good kid. Just be careful about your skin, I know you are careful, but Orion found Skye’s seal skin after that time we all watched anime together and I want to believe the best in him, but I’m not completely sure we can trust him, I guess we’ll just see, but he needs somewhere to go and I’m offering him this place.” That was one of the reasons that they wanted to sure up the security, to make sure that everything was safe. “I’ve got some more stuff I want to work on, but now we’ve got the basic designs down I can start shopping for the parts and we can look at introducing all of this stuff onto a central system.” 

“We have a weird fucking life. But. When you’ve got a seal and a mage living together what the hell do you expect. I love it. This is me living my best life.” He listened carefully as Winston laid out the situation that Rio found himself in and Ricky ended up frozen with a piece of pizza halfway to his mouth, “I’m sorry. He’s living at that creepy fucking abandoned building you found while you were sleepwalking?! Of course he can stay here what the fuck. That’s not even a question.” He took the bite that he’d been frozen about to take and rolled his eyes, “Winston. I’ve been successfully hiding my skin from people for almost a quarter of a century. Have you ever found my skin accidentally? I didn’t think so. I’ve got it nice and hidden so that’s not really an issue. But I appreciate you looking out for me.” He finished the piece of pizza and moved to another. “He’s more than welcome here. I like him. He’s a good dude. So he can absolutely stay with us. I’ll clear out one of the rooms upstairs for him. We do have the basic design down though. Start putting together a shopping list and keep track of costs and we’ll split it up.” 

“I don’t think that he is officially living there, he told me that he is living with his parents, but they sound … not great from the very little that he has actually told me about them.” Winston fiddled with their glasses. “Anyway, I feel like they use that place as a way out of the house but they don’t want their parents to find out and it would make sense for someone of their age to be moving out of the house, we’ve got the room and I knew that you would say no without hesitation.” They paused and shrugged. “I know you’ve got this dude, but you’re my rock and I definitely wouldn’t be able to do all of the stuff that I’ve got to do if I couldn’t rely on your safety.” Winston nodded. “Cool, well, I gotta admit that isn’t how I thought this would end, but I’m glad we agree. We can get started on this all tomorrow I think.” 

Ricky’s face immediately went pinched and narrow. As someone with his own latent parental issues, he had remarkably little patience for homes where parents mistreated their children. It was part of why Skylar’s defence of her abusive parents had rubbed him so much the wrong way, and why his tone took on a decidedly dull and stony timbre “well. Of course he’s always welcome here. For a couple of nights or for the foreseeable future. Whatever he needs; at least there’s an easy cover with the whole ‘oh yeah I’m just striking out on my own’ excuse. When you do bring it up to him, let him know that there’s no rent. I don’t pay Dee anything so he doesn’t have to pay me anything. Eventually he can chip in on the internet bill, but getting on his feet is more important.” His expression softened and he smiled, “If it makes you feel better… it’s not in the house. It’s hidden and locked away. He won’t find it by accident. You’re stuck with me for a good long while, don’t you fear.” Closing the pizza box before he ate the entire thing he nodded, “Good. We’ll start in the morning and turn this estate into an at least somewhat-secure fortress.” 

[seenashwrite]

There But For The Grace

Word Count: 3.3K Category: One-shot; Introspection; Mystery; Choices; Life journeys; Redemption Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Michael, Reader/O.C. Female, and… just read the story. Pairing(s): Read. The. Story. Stop wanting the endings at the starts, impatient young'uns Warnings: None Faux-Warning: There’s no banging, so now that I’ve lost 80% of you… Author’s Note(s):  *This is a re-post minus tags & links in an effort to get it to show up in searches*; I’m told you’re not a true fanfic writer unless you’ve done a coffee shop meet-up fic - kindly let me know if I got it right; more post-story Overall Summary: An archangel takes a break from his reconnaissance.

The list grew by the minute, and he had to admit to himself that the mundane task of collecting all his reasons was turning delightful.

The other world hadn’t progressed to this level of corruption; likely it would’ve, had it not been for the brimstone, but that was neither here nor there. The worlds were identical, he’d learned, at least in the ways that mattered. Time nor space made a difference. Humans were, to be sure, utterly predictable.

Case in point: his most favorite time period from recent past had unfolded in precisely the same manner in both places, so much so he came as near to astonishment as he’d ever been. The roaring twenties were rife with sin, the pompous prohibitionists and the lust-filled liquor vendors, the mobsters with their massacres, and the bankers with their bloated greed. His distaste aside, it was beautiful. It was art, the way they crafted their depravity. Granted, it was nothing compared to his favorite time of all, but this was understandable; little could live up to Sodom and Gomorrah.

See there, hunter? I’m a salt-and-burn aficionado.

He’d successfully lulled the man whose body he’d snatched - no, that’s not right. He did not steal. Theft is sin. The hunter had agreed to act as a vessel, it was witnessed, and while there was deception involved, one in his position must think of the greater good. And it should be noted that he did exercise benevolence. Angelic vessels did not fare well, exponentially so for archangel vessels, and it was poor form to run through them quickly.  

He knew firsthand how his brothers handled their hosts. Raphael would woo the humans with promises of a glorious afterlife, then promptly expel their souls the moment he got a foothold. Gabriel would talk them into giving up the ghost voluntarily (as Gabriel could talk practically anyone into anything), in an effort to keep himself guilt-free. And as the fall crept closer, Lucifer took to keeping them wide awake, poking, prodding, picking, til slowly but surely the glow faded to embers, finally snuffing them out upon growing bored.

But not him. He was the best of them all, no sense in being humble. He was different, so he did things differently. He pushed the hunter to the farthest reaches of the mind they shared, threats to family quelling the belligerence surprisingly easily.

Are you plotting? he’d asked early on, receiving no answer; they both knew it was rhetorical.

As their time together grew, he’d talk to the hunter on occasion - not aloud, of course - when he marveled at the things he observed, breathing it all in. It had been ages since he’d walked the earth peacefully. It was wonder he felt, and he knew it, and it bothered him. He had been tasked with protecting them, once upon a time, and it was easier then, they were more readily awed, or maybe just malleable. He’d begun to consider if subtlety and manipulation might be ideal this go-round, effective as plagues and floods and annihilation had been, albeit temporarily.

He’d been raised by a vengeful God, the new redemptive version that came with the birth of the prophet never quite sitting right with him, but he was an obedient son, absence or no. He was his Father’s first son, he who was of God, the first angel there ever was, no matter what differing legends over the millennia might’ve said. The offenses the rest of the children, celestial-born and earth-bound alike, committed upon God’s creation wouldn’t have been tolerated back then.

Before. Before it all changed, right under his supposed watchful eye. Before he’d laid waste, in heaven and on earth. Before he’d gotten wrapped up in his plans, let his guard down. Before he lost all three of his beloved brothers in one way or another. Before he’d started paying attention again.

He wouldn’t miss anything else.

And so it was that on his fact-gathering strolls, more and more he found himself slowing his pace, pausing, coming to a halt, damn near freezing in place when something would catch his eye, or touch his ear, or invade his nose, the latter of which stopped him cold this evening, just as twilight eased across the buildings around him, and streetlights flickered on, up and down a nondescript street in a nondescript town on one nondescript walk amongst many.

He went further down the sidewalk, and up the block, and continued around a corner, and there it was, the answer to the question of what heavenly smell had wafted his way.

.

Hallowed Grounds French and Italian Coffees est. 1922

.

In his experience, the fates were indeed fickle. On the other hand, he’d done enough surveillance that week to allow for brief relaxation, be someone else for a spell. Seemed the rough-and-tumble hunter had smoothed edges made ragged from eons spent on another plane, made him fractionally more flexible. Teaching lessons could wait one more night, he told himself.

Meant to be, don’t you think?

There wasn’t need for food or drink, but the hunter was practically a junkie on both fronts, and the palate was wide. This body was stronger than most, better equipped for him, as tailor-made things are, of course, but he had not anticipated how demanding it could be, how it would crave indulgence. Undisciplined. Annoying. Distracting. It was for that last reason he’d give in, keep bites small and sips slow, and the moment there was a sense of satiation, off he - they - would go, back on mission.

African coffee was the best, this was not merely a belief but a fact; French he’d always found bland, somehow; Italian was tolerable. He ordered an espresso, tipped well, and the barista behind the former bar said they had servers milling about, one would be by to check in, see if he needed anything else. And despite knowing he’d swallow less than a quarter of the brew, he took a seat at a table, back to people-watching. Not a one was interesting in the least.

He’d noted the woman carrying the steaming metal carafe walking briskly in the direction where he sat, but had already let his eyes roam away by the time she’d gone behind him, and she only had cause to cross his mind when a loud CLANK hit the air, and the sensation of a third-degree burn called out from his lower right leg and ankle. Several gasps erupted from close-by patrons, someone moaned “Oooooh!” in sympathy, and then came the babbling.

It was the woman, the server, and she was alternating under-breath curses with self-deprecation - Such a stupid klutz! - Why’d I take this fucking job? There wasn’t an apology to be found, not a lick of repentance.

She had his attention.

As she made her way around, the carafe - retrieved, now dented and empty - was plunked on his table, causing the espresso to slosh, and she surveyed the mess on the floor, closed her eyes, rubbed them, took a deep breath, then exhaled it far too quickly for it to have been of any use. Her eyes popped open. They instantly lit on his soaked trouser cuff.

“Jesus,” she muttered, flat forehead going to a frown in a nanosecond.

And he frowned, too. Not that he’d been particularly impressed by or had much use for the prophet, nor had he bought into all the trinity talk - he’d found it offensive that any would be placed by the Father as an equal of sorts - but this was in the ballpark of blasphemy. Well, then. Another sinner joins the collection.

Now she’d dropped, and he arched an eyebrow as his head tilted down, feeling her rubbing - aggressively - on his shoe, sopping up the spilt coffee with a rag she’d had tucked in her apron’s waistband.

“That pot was still hot as hell, it didn’t get you, did it?” she asked, looking up at him from her kneeling position.

“No,” he lied.

“Oh, thank God. I’d have been… if you’d been burnt, I would’ve… I am so sorry, sir.”

Penitence looked lovely on her.

“You seem anxious, why don’t you sit, rest for a moment,” he suggested, and gestured to the empty chair across from him.

He kept his eyes locked onto hers; she gave him an odd look in return, but didn’t have time to answer. Another table called out to her, so she broke the stare, told him she’d check on him again later, see if he wanted a refill - anything he wanted, on the house, she added - before rising and leaving his side.

He took her up on it. He paid for the one that followed. And he waited until the patrons had nearly cleared and the lights were being dimmed and the brooms were coming out. Someone else was sent to collect the fee for the still-full third.

Take a hint.

He followed the advisement - whether it was the hunter’s or some sort of self-prompting, he couldn’t say - and exited, though he didn’t carry on with his reconnaissance, instead going down the tiny alley that led to the back of the building, leaning against a telephone pole that was partially in the shadows, settling in, keeping an eye on the side door of the coffee shop.

The hunter spoke up.

You suck at this.

Pray tell?

Trying to pick up a chick, get laid.

Orgasms are insufficient reasons for risking the creation of another abomination.

Go comb through my greatest hits, then we’ll talk about risks and rewards.

It took a half-hour of darkened silence before he began to grow irritable, and he stood from his lean, was straightening his overcoat when the door opened. She spotted him, pretended like she didn’t, so he took a few steps in her direction. He was just about to speak when she whipped around, jerking something from her pocket. She immediately squirted a caustic fluid onto him, which did nothing, save prompting a confused expression to come across his now damp face.

Oh, for crying out—-

Hush.

She coughed several times as a breeze carried the mist her way, though a subtle wave of his hand served to make it disappear, and soothed her stinging eyes and scratchy throat. He pulled out his handkerchief and blotted the moisture coating his cheeks. She watched, not moving an inch, her mouth hanging open ever-so-slightly.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Please forgive me.”

“That’s the strongest mace on the market,” she muttered. She looked at the tiny tube, sneered, then tossed it down the alley, where it hop-skipped out of sight. Turning her head back to him, she spoke again, this time warily. “You need money or something? You’re not dressed like you need money.”

He returned the handkerchief to his pocket, met her eye. “You think I waited here to rob you?”

“I don’t… well why are you here?”

“I enjoyed your company and hoped to extend our time together.” A pause, then he added, “I have no desire to have sex with you.”

“Gee, thanks?”

He began to respond, hesitated, then opted to go with, “I’m told I’m not… not very good at… this.”

“Making friends?”

“Mmmm.”

“Well, it’s… it’s late.”

He glanced at his watch. “So it is.”

“And I don’t even know your name.”

“Michael.”

“Michael. Okay. I have a brother named Michael. Mikey, if I want to piss him off.”

“Were your parents religious?”

“What?!” she exclaimed, though she chased it with an amused grin. “You ask the strangest questions. Um, no. Not really.”

“And your name?”

“I, uh… don’t give out my name to strangers.”

“Wise. But I need to call you something.”

“Hmmm… I don’t really…”

He waited.

She snapped her fingers. "My family nicknamed me Grace. The way they talk, I’ve been clumsy since the womb.” She rolled her eyes.

“That sounds cruel.”

She laughed, but it was short, clipped. “Nah. Annoying, maybe. But they didn’t mean anything by it. Your family not have a nickname for you?”

He shook his head. “No. They called one of my brothers the star. He… shone a little too brightly.”

She nodded. “I have a friend like that. Drama queen. Sucks up all the air in a room, as my mother would say.”

“May I call you Grace?”

She laughed again, the full version this time, and said, “I ruined your pants, so I owe you. Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

He walked her to her car, but they kept chatting - the coffee shop began as a speakeasy, he informed her, and a two-way mirror once hung over the bar so as to keep an eye out for the police. And the conversation drifted with them as they meandered down the street, ended up in a park, sitting in swings sandwiched between a slide and a sandbox, lazily letting their feet trail through gravel, him allowing her to think he was a history buff, her telling him how she’d been born in another nondescript town in another nondescript state. How as the years passed, it had started to feel like another world.

And when it was her turn to ask about the past, it called up from within him the desire to lie to her - protect her - for the second time that night. So he chose his words carefully.

“I had assignments. One that was the most… I was supposed to guard people. Defend them, when needed. And… and I did a good job for quite awhile. My commander was pleased. But then things… happened. I let an enemy invade. I wasn’t strong enough. Not enough to stop him.”

“You don’t have to go into detail if you don’t want to,” Grace said quietly. She laid a hand over his.

“People died.”

“Oh.”

“They saw me as a protector. There was a time when some practically worshiped me, thought I was worthy of it.” He made a scoffing sound. “I started to believe I was.”

He’d never had a single regret, never let himself fall into the abyss of memories. But even he could be brought - broken, more accurately - out of his routine. And the most immediate period of his existence had done just that, making times of calm a desire, while in the same moment making times of silence an irritant.

He looked down at their hands, flipped his, threaded his fingers through hers, and she didn’t stop him.

They sat, unmoved, no words, for several minutes; three-point-two-one-six, in fact, because he counted them. His mind never rested, even when the hunter’s did, but he liked how she didn’t feel the need to fill the emptiness with idle talk. Made for a touch of calm. Even with the silence.

It held a bit of irony - he was the silent type, everyone said so. He’d found it often communicated intent better than any words could’ve. And more descriptions piled on: Imposing. Intimidating. Towering. Threatening. Some had called him “Beast” long before it had been applied to their once-adored morning star.

So there it was - there’d already been a second lie, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” he told her, staring at her intently, but this time she didn’t look away.

“You said that already,” she replied, a solemn smile on her lips, not too wide, not too thin, just the right sort, and he hoped he reciprocated in kind. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, saying, “Michael… I mean, my Michael —–”

The hunter’s belly stirred.

“—– you know, my brother, he’s in the service. He’s a Ranger. He doesn’t tell our family a lot of stories from when he fought, but he’s told me some. So if it’s anything like that, then… I can understand. I can try, I mean.”

“I led the entirety of our legion.”

“You’re… you seem a little young to be… what would it be, a general, I guess? Or do you mean you led your division? Or squadron? I know some of the terminology, you don’t have to dumb it down for me.”

“I’ve offended you.”

“No, it’s… don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter.”

“It very much matters. How people treat one another. People can be vile, sadistic, horrible creatures.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I guess. But we’re the only ones here. And I’m not horrible, and you’re not horrible, soooo…”

“You’re right,” he lied for the third time, and with one of the hunter’s brightest smiles.

Which made Grace shine.

Go.

The hunter did as he was commanded.

Michael thought she tasted like sin.

“Okay. Tomorrow. I’m off work, but we can meet at the coffee shop, figure out what to do from there… around noon sound good?”

He nodded. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Grace.”

She nodded in return, got in her car, and gave him a little wave as she pulled away.

Is this your plan, hunter? How you think you’ll undo me? Making me more like you?

Hey, I haven’t been driving for awhile now. Ass.

Hmmm.

You kissed her.

What makes you say that?

When you let me leave the bad boy corner, I could tell. Or else you’re putting strawberry lip balm on my—-

Apple.

Huh?

It’s apple.

He waited at her apartment, this time deep in the shadows where he wouldn’t be spotted, made sure she got inside safely, listened for the click that told him she’d locked the door. He began to leave, then thought better of it, decided to play guardian for old times’ sake, placed warding here and there to keep any would-be harm away. And back to walking he went, considering how to kill the hours til they met again.

May as well strike up a conversation.

Now that we’ve spent some time together, tell me - Why didn’t we do this sooner? What’s it been for you, about a decade?

You’re a douche.

Fine. But comparatively?

There’s not a douche scale, dick.

So I’m altogether irredeemable?

Uh - is there some universe where you aren’t?

Perhaps.

So prove it! Let me go! And LEAVE ME ALONE.

Fair enough.

If he were to put a not-so-fine point on his reasoning for not meeting her the next day, that about summed it up. He’d disappoint her, she’d disappoint him, and if she didn’t, that was no good. Probably worse. Better to keep unattached when it came to what the future… what he… would likely bring.

Even so, he found himself once more standing apart, likely imposing, always watching, this time through a window, across hallowed grounds, looking for his grace. He spotted her at the very table he’d been at when they met, scrolling through her phone, occasionally sipping on a latte. Then there’d be a sigh, a glance to the large clock on the opposite wall as five, then ten, then fifteen minutes passed by.

What say after this, we head to the cage, check on that counterpart of mine?

This time, he received an unusually placid response.

Why?

To ensure he’s paying for what he’s done.

Like you haven’t been thinking of nuking this world. You’re still jonesing for your apocalypse. You know you want a do-over.

The world could use some cleansing, true. There’s reasons. But, no. That’s not why.

Then what?! How many times are you planning on dragging me over there, making sure he hasn’t popped the lock so you can keep up your stupid act? They’re gonna figure it out soon, Cas or Sam—-

I thought of all people, you’d understand.

Understand WHAT? It’s payback? ‘Cause the first thing *he* did was make a beeline to take you out?

He killed my brother. With my own sword, no less. And that above all, Dean, I will not abide.

Grace picked up her bag, left a few bills on the table, and as she walked out the door, placed a phone call.

“Yeah, he stood me up… no, no, I’m not… Seriously! I’m not mad, I’m just, you know… yeah. I thought he was different… No, you’re right, and I’m sure he had a good reason, and I told you he didn’t have a phone with him, right? So it’s not like he could’ve…. oh God, no he wasn’t lying, why do you assume every dude…. Anyway, maybe I’ll see him again. I think that’d be nice…”

Well, then. Not so predictable, after all. Not this one. At least, for now.

Teaching the world a lesson could wait for just one more day.

.

Author’s Note #2: Per request, there’s a walkthrough on the inspiration for the title/plot points, the theology droppings, and the “clues” for the ending twist-a-roo, if you’re interested! Just look for this story on my Master Post (see below) and it’s linked at the bottom of the story.

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

[onlyinmyimagination]

Interest and Infatuation | pt. 1

Red Hood x (Female) Reader 

Summary: You’re a housekeeper working for the Wayne Family. A chance encounter with Red Hood leads to an unconventional romance neither of you expected.

Warnings: Some cursing. Weapons, violence, blood.

Pt. 2 // Pt. 3

~

It had only been a week since you started working at Wayne Manor, but you’d already decided this was the best job in the whole city. The benefits that came with working for the richest man in Gotham City along with paid for housing within the city was a dream come true. With Gotham’s overwhelmingly high crime rate yet enviously low cost of living, you had your doubts about moving to Gotham but perhaps it was luck that enabled you to snag this job. Or maybe Alfred Pennyworth simply liked your personality.

Granted it wasn’t exactly a job to brag about and not your intended career of choice, but housekeeping was still a respected profession. It’s a job no one wants to do, but it continues to be undeniably a necessary one in all parts of the world.

In the week you’ve worked at the Wayne household, you had yet to meet your employer and his family. You only knew their faces from various forms of media, and from their portraits that hung in the gallery hall. From what you heard, they were all adopted and yet somehow they all held the same physical trait of being ridiculously attractive. On your first day of orientation and training, you had studied their portraits during one of your breaks and had decided to explore the palace-like interior. You remembered thinking it would be believable if they actually were blood-related. All the males had dark hair and blue eyes, except for the youngest who had more green than blue in his eyes, but they also had the same, secretive expression in their eyes―even the girl. But maybe that was the trademark style of the painter. You decided not to dwell on it and hurried back to continue your training. Then you proceeded to get lost on the way back and was left wandering the countless rooms until Alfred Pennyworth finally retrieved you.

You enjoyed the company of the five other girls employed in the Wayne Manor. They were helpful and hardworking. Each of them had worked there much longer than you though their ages varied. The one closest in age to you was Ellen. She had a son to support so she only worked part-time, with varying days that Mr. Pennyworth had kindly obliged to work with. However, her presence was required during special events, whether held at the Manor or any of the Wayne properties. This was something you had yet to experience but you were assured would happen quite frequently. Aside from Ellen, the others and yourself worked Monday to Friday from seven in the morning to three in the afternoon. It was a normal eight hour a day job. So far, the only unique clause in your signing to work for the Waynes was that you were to work exclusively for the Waynes, meaning you were prohibited to be concurrently employed elsewhere while under contract as a housekeeper in Wayne Manor. With the crime rate of Gotham as high as it was, you didn’t really blame them for adding such a clause to the contract. Fear of theft or even the threat of privacy violation were something even the richest family of Gotham would take measures to defend against, even from their own employees.

There were chores that had to be performed daily in the Manor that were as curious as the family that lived in it. It included washing dirty dishes that piled up overnight by the supposedly nocturnal family, scrubbing away at even more mysterious stains from carpets and rugs that appeared out of nowhere, and returning misplaced furniture back to their designated places. Other than the rectifying of these curious messes, there were plenty of other mundane tasks to do within the Manor such as sweeping, dusting, polishing, and so forth.

One day after working at the Wayne household and spending a day vacuuming the carpets, it was raining as you and the rest of the housekeepers made your way back to Gotham City. Today however you decided you needed to stop by the nearby market.

The five of you shared a car every day to cross the bridge to and from the Wayne Manor which was situated across the bay in Gotham’s suburbs. There was an apartment building in the city owned by Wayne Enterprises that was offered to the housekeepers. Two whole floors were reserved for Wayne Enterprise employees, though more specifically, for the Wayne Manor housekeepers and was rent-free only to them.

“Can you drop me off here?” you asked as the car approached the market just a couple blocks from the apartment building. “You guys can go on ahead. I just need to buy a few things.”

“Want me to go with you?” Citlali, one of the housekeepers, asked.

You shook your head and insisted, “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” Nour said as you opened the car door. Nour was one of the younger housekeepers who had one of the prettiest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I just need a few things,” you declared with a laugh. “It will be really quick. I’ll see you back at the apartment. Thanks.” With that, you shut the car door and hurriedly dashed through the rain and into the store.

It took only a few minutes to buy what you needed and you’re soon out in the rain under the safety of your umbrella. The sky was blanketed in gray and the clouds were heavy, making it look as dark as night. The downpour of the rain was calming but the chill made you pull your coat tighter around you as you watched the path for puddles. It was at the crosswalk when you heard the splash of another set of steps behind you. You hadn’t heard the pair of feet before and you wonder if the sound might have only been the echo of your own. You hadn’t passed many people when you left the market and you peaked beneath your umbrella only to see no one else on the streets. It was disconcerting to be alone on the street but if you screamed loud enough, surely the occupants of the apartment complexes around you would hear, even over the downpour.

You were torn between confirming the stalker behind you and simply running to the safety of your home. But letting a potential thief know where you lived was not the brightest thing to do, so you turned the corner at the intersection just before your apartment. You barely had a plan at this point, and your heart quickened at the realization that you were in a much more dire situation than you thought. You hadn’t even confirmed whether you were being followed but as you were contemplating how to do so, you were pushed into a wide driveway between two apartment buildings. Your umbrella was knocked from your hands and you dropped your grocery bag as you stumbled into a large puddle. Something pressed against your back.

“Scream and I’ll put a bullet through your heart.”

You nodded and blinked the rainwater from your eyes as you stared ahead, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Give me your purse. I just want your valuables.”

“It’s very rude not to help a lady with her bags,” a distorted voice called distantly. The echo bounced from the building walls but it sounded muddled as it mixed with the patter of the rain, making it hard to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

“Who the fu―oh shit!”

You tried to figure out what was happening but you were too slow to see the quick exchange between the masked vigilante and your assailant who was now on his knees in front of the vigilante. There was a clatter as a gun skidded a few feet in your direction. You stared at one of the masked heroes you’ve only read and heard about in the news.

“Ma’am, you should get out of here and head on home.” The voice was robotic with a low tone and pitch. It took you a moment to process the situation as you stared at the red helmet, the dull gleam of the metal barely catching any light in the gloomy weather. Then you scrambled to gather your grocery bag and grabbed the handle of your umbrella, shaking out the water before raising it over your head. You almost dashed across the street but you only took one step before stopping and looking back. It seemed wrong to leave, to run away, especially without thanking your savior when you weren’t sure you would ever see him again. The vigilante noticed your presence and looked back at you curiously. The assailant took this as an opening and got to his feet and charged forward, raising his arm high and bringing it down in a swift movement at the unassuming vigilante. There was a knife in his hand.

Your savior turned just in time to stop the movement mid-swing by grabbing the blade and thus cutting his hand. He grunted in pain but managed to kick his opponent back hard enough to make him fall to the ground. Then with one hard and perfectly aimed kick to the head, the vigilante knocked out the assailant.

The vigilante shook his injured right hand side to side as if to shake away the pain. “Don’t you know women hate persistent guys who don’t know when to stop? Take a hint, man.”

You rushed back to your savior and approached with worry. “You’re hurt! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. Thank you so much for saving me.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, yanking his hand away when you reached out to take it.

“Please, let me see,” you insisted with an outstretched hand. You looked up at him anxiously, peering from beneath your umbrella. That’s when you noticed the rain slipping down his helmet and down the exposed skin of his neck just above his bodysuit. You lifted the umbrella higher and tilted it in his direction so he was under it. As if spurred by your actions, he revealed his gloved hand to you and you examined the cut where the blade sliced open his palm. It wasn’t too deep. This was something you could help patch up, but you were distressed by the blood steadily oozing from the wound.

“I just bought some first aid supplies from the market,” you said, holding up the bag of groceries. “I can clean this up for you.”

He retracted his hand. “Look, lady, I appreciate the thought but this seems like much more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s not!” you remarked. “This happened because of me. It’s my fault you got hurt. Let’s just go over there. It will be really quick, okay?” You were pointing at a bench outside a nearby store where it was protected from the rain by the store’s awning.

A deep sigh left him. “Okay.” He begrudgingly let you lead him a few paces to the covered seating area and sat down at your insistence, with you tugging on his arm the whole way. You quickly retracted your umbrella and placed your belongings on the bench as you sat beside him. He helped you peel the glove off his hand with the blood-soaked material almost glued to his skin.

You pushed down your nervousness as you leaned closer to him. The atmosphere was quite ambient, with the drumming of the rain on the awning overhead and the heavy downpour surrounding you. It felt comfortable, like you were in a safe and protected bubble. Except you were sharing the moment with a masked stranger. You never would have thought you’d be this close to one of Gotham City’s vigilantes. Before moving here you tried to do some research on them, but only found controversies and a surprisingly large online fanbase. You ultimately decided they were heroes and should be trusted guardians of Gotham, but never did you imagine you’d interact with one.

“So you just happened to be buying this stuff on your way home?” the vigilante asked conversationally.

“Yeah,” you answered. Then hesitantly you elaborated, “I recently started work that I’m not used to yet, so I’ve accumulated a few cuts and scrapes.”

He was silent for a moment as he took note of the roughness of your hands while you dabbed at his cut with some gauze pads. “And what is it that you do, may I ask?”

You hesitated again. “I’m a housekeeper.”

“...A maid?” Then he caught a glimpse of your uniform beneath your coat. “You work at Wayne Manor?”

“How did you know? There’s not even an insignia or emblem on the uniform,” you said while glancing down at your attire. You looked at him and examined the hardened expression set on the helmet.

“Oh, uh, it’s a distinctive uniform. It’s easy to identify,” he said, though you doubted it. The housekeeper uniform was a dress that stopped a few inches below the knees, gray in color and made of stiff material that did nothing to compliment the figure. The short sleeves were cuffed and had a cutaway collar and buttons going about halfway down the torso. A very plain ensemble.

You applied the antiseptic spray onto the cut and he made a hissing sound that sounded amusingly odd when mixed with the voice changer. When you soaked the cut enough in the solution you pressed gauze pads into his hand and quickly wrapped his hand with an adhesive bandage wrap.

“There, all done. Learned that from Google,” you said as you dropped the materials back into your bag. “Oh, and I think you need to keep it elevated…or something.”

“Heh, not bad for a temporary fix. Now we’re even.” He held up his hand to admire the handiwork.

You watched him carefully and said, “I’m really sorry again.”

“Hey, no worries. Why did you stop, anyway? Weren’t you scared?” he questioned. “Or did you stop because you were scared?”

“No, I wasn’t scared...I was relieved that you showed up and saved me,” you answered slowly, unsure how to express yourself, “but I didn’t leave because I didn’t like leaving you there with…my problem.”

“Your problem? It wasn’t your fault that this happened, so stop thinking that way. And secondly, this is my job so next time a hero or whatever tells you to get away, please listen to them.” He got to his feet then glanced back at you. “Now where do you live? Shall I walk you back home?”

“It’s okay. I live right across the street, just right there.” You pointed at an apartment complex a few buildings down and across the street, diagonally from where you were taking refuge.

“How embarrassing. I wanted to look cool but that just blew up in my face.”

You laughed a little. “Well, you were very cool when you saved me from that guy earlier,” you said.

A robotic hum sounded from his helmet. “That does make me feel a little bit better.”

You gathered your things and faced him, intending to leave. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Thank you again.”

“Likewise. Now hurry inside. I’ll watch you until you go in.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stared down at you.

You agreed with a shy nod. “Okay.” You scurried across the street with a thrumming heart and kept the umbrella low to hide your face. You didn’t look back even as you reached the building or when you passed through the doors. You made your way up and stopped to take a moment once inside your apartment, which was a corner unit of humble size. Your living room window coincidentally faced the street you had just been on, so you went to it and looked outside.

He was still across the street but closer now to the building and in the middle of the downpour. He was looking up at your window. You stiffened at this and slowly raised your hand to wave to him before quickly side-stepping out of sight to hide behind the wall.

It took you a long moment to gather the courage to peek out the window again and when you did he was gone, along with the unconscious criminal’s body.

.

.

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[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @ilovealeclightwood!

I hope this is fluffy enough with everything you wanted and that you love it! Comments and Kudos = cookies :D

Read on AO3

*****

All I thought I'd ever need

For as long as Magnus could remember having his cat-eyes, he could remember throwing Christmas parties. Like there had been an inkling deep inside of him about the importance of finding an excuse to bring together everyone that he loved, and even those that he didn’t, into one room.

In the beginning, though it hadn’t been necessarily just for Christmas. More a case of any excuse for a party and he was there, sometimes as just another person in the crowd getting ridiculously drunk to the point that his glamour would disappear and the crowd around him would withdraw. Which was what had led him to stop hanging around mundane parties so much and finding Downworlder ones instead.

The Downworlder ones were infamous; no matter what part of the world you were in, whether it was the Night Children, Children of the Moon, the Fair Folk or Lilith’s Children they all seemed to have their own definition of a great time.

The Night children were all about blood, more often than not from a living source which ended up being an encatoed mundane on a table stripped bare, being devoured by anyone and everyone with fangs; with encatos often thrown around to get the person they wanted for the night into their bed. One of those nights was definitely how he found himself in Camille’s bed and presence before he even really knew her.

Children of the moon were more about finding a space to be free in their true form, admittedly those were a little dull if you weren’t actually a werewolf yourself, but they were very physically affectionate and he had often found himself in the middle of a dog pile of sleepy werewolves steadily getting drunk or high while they shifted back.

The Seelie parties had been all about being one with nature, the Seelie Queen had always encouraged nudity of her guests which had often resulted in quite a few enthusiastic orgies, only a couple of which Magnus had ever participated in admittedly. But they were definitely something that he remembered on his loneliest of nights. The only downside with the Seelie parties was being unable to eat or drink anything, as their parties were always held in the Seelie court and it was always wise to be careful about that kind of thing. You never knew if someone was planning something to try and entrap you for some reason.

The Warlock parties, well the few he had been to when younger anyway, had been filled with decadence. It was more about showing your status and your material worth than enjoying yourself, or at least that was something Lorenzo had said a time or two when he was particularly wasted, especially at Woodstock one particular year. And admittedly there was some truth to that. They were always held in the homes or properties of High Warlocks, who had decades, sometimes centuries, of knowledge and wealth they wanted to parade to those who cared and even to those who didn’t. The drinks were always over the top with richness, the food equally so and left you feeling that if you didn’t know the host you were intruding on something private.

The only difference with the Warlock parties unlike the other downworlder parties was, there was no unspoken rule that other members of the Downworlders couldn’t come too. So, it was often relatively common to find a vampire talking to a Seelie or a werewolf with a warlock, though admittedly the romantic liaisons were never seen or expected to be a permanent thing.

But as the years passed, Magnus had begun to get tired of the pompous excuses to show off and had started to hold his own. Admittedly he wasn’t a High Warlock at the time, was living with Ragnor who was one of the most antisocial creatures known to mankind and trying to stop a newly turned Raphael from taking a trip in the daylight, but it was all that which had been the catalyst for the party. Well, that and Catarina had been getting tetchy and when she got tetchy you knew she was about to do something stupid if you didn’t intervene.

They’d ended up at one of Camille’s houses, the country of which he couldn’t even recall, with friends of friends of friends seven times removed all getting drunk or high or grabbing a crowd to fuck in a room. It wasn’t even the kind of party he had been wanting at the time, all he’d been wanting was the excuse to get his friends out the house for a drink but it had swiftly become a legacy which he had gladly upheld as relationships and friendships came and went.

It only started to be a Christmas tradition around the turn of the twentieth century, just after his final break up with Camille who’d smashed his heart to pieces at her feet when she laughed at his marriage proposal. He’d been moping for days in Raphael’s spare room in London, his friends gradually getting worried about him though admittedly they had each shown it in different ways. In the end, Raphael had thrown an outfit at him, Catarina had announced they were going to countdown to the New Year in style for once and Ragnor had opened the curtains obnoxiously making complaints under his breath about the state of the room.

He hadn’t exactly been in the mood but had given in when Raphael threated to throw out his favourite pair of shoes if he didn’t come. They had started at some pub not far from where they were staying and ended up drinking on Tower bridge, overlooking the Thames as Big Ben chimed in the new year. All four of them drunkenly singing Auld Lang Sin with the masses and celebrating the beginning of a new century.

It easily became a tradition, no matter what part of the world they were in, they would always have a party of some kind between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. The New Years Eve parties becoming less and less as they became more of a fad, where you could go out into the streets get drunk and chime in the new year. It slowly narrowed down to Christmas though when his friends started to spread out more, and they needed more excuses to come together and catch up. If you were immortal and as you got older birthdays weren’t so much an excuse to celebrate anymore, more a nuisance as you tried to remember what year you were on and mourn over the friends that were no longer around because of the circle’s uprising.

Every year he’d announce a party to the Downworlder community once he became High Warlock of Brooklyn, always maintaining it was never to show off but more to bring everyone together in a safe space away from the threat of the Circle. In the first few years as High Warlock of Brooklyn, he’d held it in his home but as things got stolen and broken when the alcohol took its toll he finally threw in the towel and brought a night club, deciding it was best for those wanting a safe place to party under protection of the High Warlock as well as for the safety of his prized possessions.

Pandemonium had been holding Christmas parties ever since then, the music and fashion often changing with the times from disco to pop to techno to rave and everything in between. The alcohol was always in abundance and the ambience filled with a combination of both safety and pleasure. But Magnus must admit it got exhausting and had taken on staff to overlook the parties now as his friends all finally settled in places where he knew he could find them if he needed them.

With Catarina and Raphael both in New York, Ragnor somewhere between Idris and his beloved country home in the UK and Tessa confining herself to the spiral labyrinth after the death of her beloved Will and loss of Jem, he instead would visit them if and when he had the time.

So yes, technically he had hosted several Christmas parties over the years, but that didn’t mean he always attended them unless he thought it was for the best when Circle members began their weekly terrorising the Downworlder jaunt. So when the prospect of Christmas came around in his first year with Alec, the last thing that he was prepared to was continue on with the same old same old.

For one thing he knew that Alec absolutely detested parties. His beautiful yet introverted boyfriend couldn’t stand being surrounded by crowds of people he didn’t know or even care to know dancing up against him to loud music that drowned out any type of conversation for extended periods of time.

For another, though he had seen his boyfriend drink, he had never seen him completely drunk off his face, which some including Isabelle would probably say was a good enough excuse in itself to hold a party but Magnus adored his boyfriend enough that he would willingly refrain.

And finally, he never seemed to enjoy parties as well when he had to worry about all the planning leading up to it, especially when he was in a serious relationship with someone that wasn’t as social as himself. No matter how many times he’d been in relationships with introverts he couldn’t relax when they couldn’t.

So he was surprised when after one of their rare dates, that Alec brought it up.

“So, I’ve heard that Pandemonium’s Christmas party is an experience in itself, are you planning anything special this year?” Alec asked, brushing his thumb against one of Magnus’ rings as they walked back to Magnus’ after a meal at one of the authentic New York restaurants in the city.

“Why, darling who told you that?” Magnus asked, looking at his boyfriend who shrugged as they stopped to cross the street.

“Izzy. She always said that the Pandemonium Christmas party was the party of the year and made the effort to go every year. She tried to drag me along a few times but every time she’d criticise my closet so I’d just say no.” Alec said, pushing his free hand into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“You mean I could have seen you looking sinfully hot grinding up against a crowd of leather-clad men before? Well, I must say I feel a little bit deprived.” Magnus pouted, causing Alec to roll his eyes and laugh.

“You know how I feel about parties…and clubs…and strange men feeling me up,” Alec said pointedly, leading Magnus across the street once the crossing signal changed.

“I know…and honestly I don’t know how I’d feel about that anyway, now that I actually know you,” Magnus said, pecking a kiss to Alec’s knuckles when they reached the other side of the road and continued walking earning a smile from the taller.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Magnus. Anything special planned this year?” Alec asked, watching as Magnus’ gaze moved to his feet.

“Actually, I was thinking of calling the parties quits this year. I mean, I don’t particularly enjoy them as much as I used to, going to Pandemonium always feels like such a chore now and honestly I’d prefer to spend the night with you anyway.” Magnus said, biting his lip causing Alec to frown.

“Really? I mean I was thinking of coming to at least try and enjoy it for once but if you were thinking of giving them up altogether…” Alec said, Magnus, offering him a grateful smile.

“I know you would darling and I love you for it. But you’d be miserable, I’d be miserable and tired after having to organise everything and by the time the night came to an end, I would have barely seen you. It just doesn’t seem worth the hassle.” Magnus said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“I wouldn’t be miserable, because you’d be there. But isn’t the party supposed to be for the Downworlders to enjoy themselves safely? I mean the last thing you should do is give it up for that reason right?“ Alec said.

“I guess when you put it like that I can just hand the event arrangements to the events team and it would definitely be a load off my shoulders.” Magnus smiled, resting his head against his boyfriend’s bicep.

“Well that’s good, I don’t want the Downworlder population blaming me for depriving them of the best night of the year. Although….” Alec bit his lip, as if an idea seemed to come to him.

“What is it?” Magnus asked.

“Well, I was going to ask how you’d feel about arranging a party for us? I know you’re probably busy and the last time ended in disaster but…” Alec rambled uneasily causing Magnus to offer him a reassuring smile.

“Angel, how were you to know a warlock would infiltrate it as a cat and cause all kinds of trouble? Besides if that’s what you want, I would be more than happy to do that even if it is slightly short notice. You have a guest list in mind?” Magnus asked as they got closer to his apartment building.

“I can get Izzy to help you with the stuff on our end if that’s ok? I’ve got meetings with Clave envoys and reports to wade through coming out of my ears for the next few weeks leading up to Christmas.” Alec asked, as the doors to the building opened.

“That’s absolutely perfect. Now let’s have a nightcap and maybe you can show me some of the moves you would have used if you’d been persuaded to my party in the past hm?” Magnus grinned with a wink as he led Alec into the building towards the lift.

XO

As it would come to pass, it was probably for the best that Magnus had Isabelle to help him as he was sure that Alec wouldn’t have any idea about the ins and outs involved in organising a party. He loved his boyfriend, without a doubt, but when it came to anything outside of Shadowhunting and his hobbies he seemed to be slightly obtuse. Also, it did mean he could try to brainstorm Christmas gifts for Alec with one of the two people who knew him best. Even if from the sounds of it Isabelle hated Alec with all the suggestions she was coming up with.

“No Isabelle I’m not going to buy lingerie for your brother! I don’t even know where you’ve got the idea from that he would even be ok with that!?” Magnus said, from behind his latte as the two sat in his loft taking a break from party planning.

“Magnus, if you asked him to get on his knees and get you off in public, I’m betting he’d probably do it in a heartbeat no questions asked. But just…. forget that. How about aftershave or something you can make him yourself?” Isabelle asked from where she was lounging back on his other couch gaze rested on her phone.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like I know him well enough to buy something like that for him and know he’d like it. Besides, I feel like I need to get him something not so out there. We’ve not even been together a year yet and I still don’t know everything about him.” Magnus sighed, leaning back into his couch and staring into the depths of his coffee while the pen he had been previously holding was now spinning around on the tip.

“Ok, how about a book? Like a special edition of something really rare. I know he doesn’t seem like it but Alec is a big book worm when he gets the chance. I’m sure that would be perfect for him. But like I keep saying Magnus, as long as it’s you that get it for him, he's going to love it no matter what.” Isabelle said, casting him a look over her phone.

“I suppose, I mean I do have one or two in my own collection he might possibly like if he’s into classics,” Magnus asked, watching Isabelle smile at him reassuringly.

“He’s into anything and everything fiction Magnus. You’re worrying about this way too much.” Isabelle said, finally setting her phone down after sending one last text and watching Magnus chew his lip as he reheated his lukewarm latte with his magic.

“It’s our first Christmas together Isabelle. I just want it to be special for him since it’s his first one with someone and my first one with someone who sees me and not my eyes. Which sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” Magnus sighed.

“No, it doesn’t. It’s kind of sweet that you care so much. But just trust me, no matter what you get him and no matter how this party turns out I swear it will be special for him because you’re there together.” Isabelle reassured him, getting up to grab the notepad and pen to add some more ideas to the party planning. “Though speaking of the party, I think I might know Alec’s weakness for a certain Alcohol, so we’ve got to get some of that in.”

XO

Alec had thought that finding a present for Magnus would not be as hard as it was turning out to be and unfortunately with Izzy helping Magnus with the party and Jace pretty much useless when it came to presents that didn’t involve beer, himself or some kind of weapon he had turned to someone unexpected for help.

“Fray would you hold up a minute! It’s not like the shop is going to close!” he called, as he saw Clary’s redhead disappear through the crowd down an alleyway and just managed to follow her before he lost sight of her completely.

Normally he and Clary didn’t interact much, barely spoke unless it involved briefings, performance reviews or one on one training which they did from time to time as Jace couldn’t be trusted to keep his mind on the task at hand. But she was also as close to Magnus as Isabelle was, and they seemed to share a close bond that he had hoped to tap into so he could get the perfect present. But unfortunately, they had been from one side of the city to another, looking in occult shops for rare artefacts which might mean something to the warlock or expensive jewellers for bracelets and earrings. But nothing seemed to be right and from how frustrated Clary was getting the redhead seemed to steadily be running out of ideas leaving him up shit’s creek if these last couple of shops came up with nothing.

He finally managed to catch up with the redhead outside an occult shop that had a large window display with signs quoting Latin and leather-bound books being used as a stand for a wide display of plants artfully arranged into a wreath with a pentacle created out of branches in the centre. Clary was waiting for him if the way she immediately made for the door when she spotted him was anything to go by, leaving him with no choice but to follow.

The shop seemed to be eerily quiet as they entered with only the odd murmuring from the back and odd tick from a clock, but it seemed to be filled to bursting with all kinds of things that immediately reminded Alec of Magnus. From the rings in the jewellery cabinet to the large selection of leather-bound books in various languages to even the plant holders of different materials dotted around, yet Clary seemed to be fixated on something that had him bypassing everything else.

“Clary, what are we even looking for?” Alec asked once they were a few rows away from the presently unmanned counter at the front.

“I remember Magnus mentioning something about a certain talisman he was looking for which I thought would be perfect for you to give him…. but….” Clary stopped mid-step and turned her attention to an antique-looking photo frame currently displaying a default picture in the centre. It seemed like something Magnus would like, but it would look incomplete without a picture of the two of them and Alec wasn’t sure he’d be able to come up with a good enough excuse for a picture before Christmas.

“Snap out of it Fray, what were you saying?!” Alec asked as he watched Clary tear her gaze from the photo frame as though filing it away for an alternative if they didn’t find what she was looking for.

“Right sorry. So, the talisman would be perfect for you to give him but currently, it’s seeming like a mission to find it so we might have to start looking for alternatives….” Again, Clary trailed off, but this time she led Alec towards what she was looking at inside a cabinet in the corner.

It looked like a large yin and yang symbol pendant created from two different types of stone bordered by silver with a long silver chain sat in a red velvet box and yet everything about it when Alec looked at it seemed to make sense. Magnus was his opposite and his equal at the same time and what better way to show than by giving him a symbol of that so beautifully decorated.

“It’s perfect.” Alec murmured, causing Clary to look from the necklace to him and nod with a smile.

“Yeah, it is. That is definitely Magnus without a shadow of a doubt. I’m sure he’ll love it. You should go to the counter to get that; I’m going to grab my present for him while you’re busy.” The redhead said, before disappearing back in the direction of the photo frame.

Alec took note of what the necklace was next to in the cabinet so he could find it again before retracing his steps back towards the counter. Again, he heard murmuring from the back, but this time made sure to clear his throat loud enough to be heard and soon someone appeared from the back.

It looked to be a young teenage boy with longish red hair with a fringe that just about covered one eye, a piercing on the left side of his bottom lip, dressed in a shirt of some band Alec didn’t know and a pair of black jeans skinner than Alec’s held up with a studded belt. He didn’t exactly look old enough to own the place so the owner must have told him to watch the place while they were busy.

“Hi, I’m interested in a necklace in a cabinet and was wondering if I’d be able to see it,” Alec asked, watching the boy sigh but nod, grab a set of keys and come from behind the counter.

“There’s a lot of cabinets so you’ll have to show me which one.” The boy murmured, toying with the long-chain holding a collection of keys as he followed Alec’s lead.

Alec immediately pointed out which piece he wanted, and watched the boy open the cabinet, carefully manoeuvre his hand over the other pieces so he didn’t disturb the display and grab the right box. The boy then closed the cabinet and led Alec back to the counter where Clary was stood waiting, holding the photo frame and a couple of bracelets made up of semi-precious stones.

Alec managed to check the necklace over before repeating that he wanted it as though the boy was sure he wouldn’t and pulled out of his wallet. The boy took his time, rambling about the stones the pendant was made of and putting the box back in its original wrappings before putting it in a gift bag. It reminded Alec of something else he’d have to pick up on the way home, as he paid without comment while Clary looked over the contents of the counter in case there was anything else, she wanted.

Once Alec was done, he left the shop with the sound of Clary and the boy making small talk among themselves, feeling relieved that his Christmas shopping was over. He had go-to presents when it came to Izzy, Jace and Max and even the odd present up his sleeve for his Mom that he brought months in advance to make sure it got to New York from Idris with plenty of time. But he had a feeling when it came to Magnus there would never be a go-to, to a collection of things he knew the other liked which he would steadily have to make his way through a year at a time.

Finally, Clary appeared, looking happy with herself and also relieved that they had finally managed to accomplish their goal before throwing in the towel.

“You want to get a coffee on the way back to the Institute, I’m tired after all that walking.” Clary smiled, as she pushed her purse back in her bag and led the way back down the alleyway.

“I suppose one couldn’t hurt though yours is on me. Thanks for this Fray.” Alec said, watching Clary shrug it off as nothing.

“No problem, I always love helping the people I know buying things for the ones they love. Hopefully, you’ll be able to buy something for him yourself next year.” Clary grinned nudging him with her bag as they reached the end of the alleyway back on to the main street.

“I definitely hope so, now let’s get you that coffee,” Alec said rolling his eyes with a small smile as he led her towards the nearest café despite her objections.

XO

Between trying to finalise the remaining details of the party and checking in with his team at Pandemonium to make sure everything was ready at their end, it wasn’t until a couple of days before Christmas that Magnus finally got around to trying to decide which book to give to Alec. It was quite a task not just because of the number of books that he owned, of which there were many from fiction of about every type of genre known to mankind to every spellbook he owned and everything in between.

Admittedly his collection of first editions was limited, but only because Ragnor had been the one to give him his first and he had never actively looked to collect them. Some of them had been handed to him by the actual author who he was a friend or lover of at the time, a couple of which had been signed and a few which had deviated endings which made them probably worth millions in the current market. But when it came to deciding which to give Alec, he was torn.

Though Isabelle had said Alec loved all kinds of books that could easily be a claim that didn’t prove to be true and the last thing he wanted to do was give the other something he didn’t really like. Especially when the first thing that came to mind was an expensive leather-bound first edition of the entire Don Juan Poem which had been left behind by George on one of their nights together, few as they had been. George had never asked about its whereabouts and after reading the first couple of cantos at the time, because it really was ridiculously long, Magnus had held on to it feeling like it might become popular in later years and he could sell it then. But at the same time giving his current boyfriend a book written by a former lover might not be the best of ideas in the world when it would only serve to remind the other of all the other people he’d shared his bed with over the years.

It was a dilemma that saw him sitting at his desk in his study looking through the hundred or so prized books and trying to decide on the best one when Isabelle came to check in on the progress of the remaining party planning in case he needed her to run an errand.

“I thought you said you had a book or two that you thought Alec would like not an entire library.” Isabelle’s voice came from the doorway as he let his gaze move over one of the Cantos of Don Juan that really spoke to him in a way, he was sure Alec would understand. Magnus set a bookmark on the page and offered the younger Lightwood a smile as she came into the room, looking at the pile of books in wonder.

“I did, but I’m still up in the air about what he likes and would like best. The one that seems to speak to me the most I’m not sure I can give him…. or at least half of these anyway.” Magnus said closing Don Juan carefully as Isabelle gave him a look like she knew what he was saying.

“Because you slept with the Author or….?” She asked bluntly, sitting in the chair opposite him as Magnus rearranged the piles of books, sorted according to the genre, so he didn’t have to meet her gaze.

“Exactly. The last thing I want is to bring his attention to the fact that I have been with people long before he was even born, let alone of the most well-known poets of the Romantic movement. Which equally rules out these too.” Magnus sighed, gesturing to the pile now sat beside him holding his copies of Frankenstein, collection of William Wordsworth’s poems and a particularly elaborate copy of The Great Gatsby.

“Wow, yeah I can see what you mean,” Isabelle said, watching Magnus look over those that remained.

“Can you at least tell me some things he’s read so I don’t give him something ridiculous that he isn’t interested in?” Magnus asked, looking pleadingly at Isabelle who rolled her eyes as she got up to look over the titles in the warlock’s possession.

“He read a fair bit of Shakespeare growing up, though it was rare that he read anything by mundane authors it was always set clave allocated reading. But I suppose Mom did try and twist his arm by giving his different books as we grew up, the odd bit of Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck and Kurt Vonnegut. But like I say he doesn’t have just one genre or author he sticks to but I do know that poetry isn’t exactly his kind of thing which definitely rules most of those out anyway.”

“Well, that does rule out a couple more. How about this one?” Magnus asked, picking up a slightly duller but undoubtedly well-kept copy with the title ‘1984’ engraved on the spine and coloured with burgundy ink.

“Well it’ll intrigue him enough to read it I’m sure of that much.” Isabelle nodded, watching Magnus set the book down and return the rest of the piles on his desk back into their allocated bookcase with a swish of his hand.

“Well, at least that’s one thing I’ve finally sorted that I can wrap later.” Magus sighed with relief as he pushed himself to his feet and leaving the study with Isabelle on his heels.

“That was what I came for, I just wanted to check and see if there was anything you needed me to do in the run-up to the party? Any food to pick up or last-minute decorating to do?” Isabelle asked as Magnus sank down on the couch.

“Darling, you’d be surprised how much help magic is when you are trying to organise a party so I do have most of it covered. Alec is still going to come right?” Magnus asked as Isabelle sat down beside him with her gaze rested on the Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

It was the biggest one Magnus had been able to find, covered from top to bottom in antique ornaments he’d collected over the decades on his travels around the world with strings of carefully selected tinsel and lights wove between them to help break up the continents and eras. Beneath it was a large selection of presents he’d brought not just for Catarina, Madzie and Raphael, who he had insisted on inviting but also for the shadowhunters in his life as well as a few tokens for the other Downworlder leaders that had been invited. Needless to say, it looked like he had spent more than he had done but it was worth every penny and he knew Isabelle especially would love her presents.

But the reason he wasn’t sure if Alec was going to come was that he had been run off his feet the past few weeks with an audit that had been sprung on him by the Clave, leaving him at the beck and call of the envoy that was in charge. It had meant that he and Alec rarely got to see the other, and Isabelle was always telling him how stressed her brother was getting when he still had reports that needed finishing before they could even leave the Institute to celebrate. Though that hadn’t stopped his boyfriend from insisting that those with family in Idris should go and visit them, leaving them on a skeleton staff. It was a good thing a few family members of some staff had decided to come to New York instead leaving them with temporary replacements.

“Of course he’ll come. Even if I have to redress him myself and drag him out the Institute leaving Jace to pick up the slack, he will be there.” Isabelle reassured him offering him a smile when he conjured her a coffee and offered it to her.

“I don’t think I would wish Jace’s attempts at taking over on anyone normally, but I would gladly take it if it meant Alec was here,” Magnus said, as he conjured himself a coffee and bit his lip.

“And he will be. I should probably get back to the Institute then if you don’t need me but if you think of anything else don’t hesitate to text me yeah?” Isabelle asked, getting to her feet with her coffee in hand.

“As I say, I’m sure I’ve got everything more than sorted but I will keep it in mind. Thank you, darling.” Magnus smiled, pecking a kiss to her cheek and creating a portal for her with his free hand.

“No worries, I’ll see you later Magnus.” Isabelle’s voice called back to him as she left through the portal leaving Magnus to double-check everything just to be on the safe side now his present for Alec was sorted.

XO

Christmas Eve came quicker than Alec had been expecting, and so did Magnus’ party that night, meaning he was trying desperately to finish all the work he needed to do. His mother had tried to talk him into just giving them to Raj to do, but he didn’t trust the other enough that he wouldn’t contact one of his superiors about the move. Adding to that, the fact that Max Whispermark, the envoy overseeing the audit, was still sticking around to double-check everything which was making Alec nervous.

But as Christmas eve itself passed he knew he was going to be cutting it fine to get to Magnus’ for the party before the guests arrived, and it seemed to be all the more confirmed when his parabatai and sister both walked into his office while he was trying to sign off and fire message the last few piles of reports to their correct recipient.

“Alec, what are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to be getting to Magnus’ before the guests started arriving?” Isabelle asked, causing Alec to cast her a glare out the corner of his eye as he tried to finish up signing the reports through his writer’s cramp which was killing him.

“That was the plan, but Whispermark decided to collar me for a whole hour with his report of our audit putting me back a few hours. You guys should go on ahead and tell Magnus I’ll be there soon.” Alec said, setting his pen down and reaching for his stele only for Jace to grab it and twirl it between his fingers.

“Are they all signed?” Jace asked as Isabelle looked ready to blow a gasket.

“Yeah but I still need to send them to….” Alec trailed off when his siblings exchanged glances.

“Which I can do. Give me names and I’ll send them so you can get ready for the party.” Jace said handing Alec’s stele over to Isabelle.

“But it would take less time if I just do it myself,” Alec argued though sighed at the looks he got in response, knowing he was beaten as he scribbled the right names in the written order on a piece of paper and set it on top of the last few bundles.

“Great, then it’s settled, Jace will finish off, and I’ll help you get ready for the party,” Isabelle said, grabbing Alec by the wrist and pulling him out his chair in the direction of the door before Alec could even say a word to Jace. But from the feeling, he got through their bond, part amusement and part reassurance he knew his brother understood how thankful he was.

Isabelle set him on his bed once they reached his room and began to sort methodically through his closet, murmuring to herself under her breath as she threw together what she thought was the right outfit. Alec usually would have put up a fight, but whenever it came to a date or party as the case may be with Magnus he knew he needed to make the effort so he just dealt with it because there was still that side inside him that wasn’t confident enough and continued to second guess why the warlock was with him in the first place.

“Right so, slate grey shirt, black less battered leather jacket, your best jeans and some sneakers and you’re set.” Isabelle quipped, throwing the items onto Alec’s unmade bed as he began to undress with his back to his sister.

He managed to change quickly and after Isabelle finished fidgeting with his hair and he had grabbed Magnus’ present from under his bed, he let Isabelle lead the way out the Institute towards the portal waiting for them which he had a feeling Isabelle had texted his boyfriend for while he was dressing.

When they reached loft Alec could tell Magnus had gone all out in every meaning of the word. From the tree to the decorations dotted around from the bookshelves to the side tables and bar which was crowded with people waiting for drinks to the table covered in food platters and all. Soft music was murmuring in the background but just loud enough for him to recognise the usual Christmas carols that he heard from time to time. All in all, it was a down-played party from what he had been expecting with all Isabelle’s talk of the Pandemonium parties but he had to admit it didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin and hide so that was something.

“Alexander there you are. I was beginning to worry when Isabelle told me you weren’t on your way yet.” Magnus’ voice caught his attention, leaving him turning towards the sound and only just managing to stop his eyes from widening at the sight of his boyfriend.

He was dressed in a burgundy button-up with the buttons done to his chest with necklaces visible from the light and tighter than tight jeans practically painted on to his legs that made Alec’s mouth go dry. His hair was an artfully created chaos that seemed to match perfectly with the usual makeup around his eyes and in the spirit of Christmas Magnus’ nails were painted red which stood out with every movement his hands made. He was perfect just like always and it was only then that the pain in Alec’s chest seemed to remind him of how long it had been since he had last seen his boyfriend and how much he had missed him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, the envoy from the clave was being ridiculously thorough and then wanted to debrief me interrupting all my reports I needed to do. But this looks absolutely amazing Magnus.” Alec smiled, pecking a kiss to Magnus’ cheek and another to his lips even though he desperately wanted to shove him up against a wall and show him how much this all meant to him.

“Well, at least you’re here now.” Magnus smiled, offering Alec a drink seemingly from mid-air and toasting him with a wink before he disappeared into the crowd when his name was called.

“I’m going to go back and double-check that Jace hasn’t set the place on fire. I won’t be long.” Isabelle smiled, leaving Alec to set his present for Magnus under the tree as he took in the atmosphere.

“Alec!” A sweet yet familiar voice calling his name turned Alec around just in time for him to have Madzie jumping into his arms with a bright laugh that had Alec’s smile brightening as he caught her and squeezed her close.

“Hey Madzie, it’s been a while,” Alec said, pecking a kiss to her head as Catarina appeared from the crowd dressed simply in a deep purple dress with her hair up in a bun and Madzie’s signature pink bag over one shoulder. There was a bemused smile on the elder warlock’s face at the sight of the pair hugging, but she just offered Alec a silent nod in the direction she was going in case he needed her before she walked towards the bar.

“Momma kept telling you were busy when I asked to see you,” Madzie sighed as Alec hugged her to his hip and walked towards the open balcony doors.

“Well, unfortunately, she’s right sweetie, I’m always busy, just like Magnus is always busy. But that doesn’t mean we don’t miss you.” Alec said, setting his glass down on the table before setting Madzie down in one of the two patio chairs.

“I missed you too. Where’s Magnus?” Madzie asked as Alec said in the chair beside her.

“Probably checking that everything is perfect sweetie. He’ll be around here somewhere though; we can always go and try to find him if you want?” Alec asked, watching Madzie’s face light up the offer and took Madzie’s hand and his drink back into the apartment to look for his boyfriend.

The loft seemed to be steadily getting fuller a bit at a time, Raphael chatting with Simon and a few members of the Clan in the corner over glasses of blood with the clan leader offering him a nod of acknowledgement before one of his members seemed to pull him back into the conversation. Luke and a couple of pack members were hovering by the tree taking in the different ornaments and Meliorn had only just appeared from the way he was at the bar ordering a drink. His Mom and Max were at the buffet, trying different foods they hadn’t seen before with Clary and a couple of other Shadowhunters that Alec had suggested inviting. But the rest of the inhabitants seemed to have been invited by Magnus, meaning they were either warlocks or meant something to him.

Finally, Alec spotted Magnus in the kitchen side of the bar, checking in with the caterer about the serving of some deserts from the looks of it giving Alec the chance for him and Madzie to catch him before he disappeared.

“I think I’ve spotted him Madzie, let’s go surprise him yeah?” Alec asked Madzie causing a giggle from the little warlock as Alec led her through the crowd.

“….and I want the trifle served before the mince pies but after the Christmas cake. I want people to have the option of trying things other things if they don’t like them.” Magnus said, the caterer nodding in agreement as they told a waiter to refill some now empty plates on the buffet.

“Magnus!” Madzie squealed, bringing a big smile to Magnus’ face as he turned towards her and bent down to pull her into a tight hug when she reached him.

“Hello Sweet Pea, I was wondering when I’d get to see you in the dress, I made your momma buy for you. Give me a twirl I want to make sure it fits.” Magnus grinned, letting go of her and holding her hand above her head as she spun around on one foot in a make-shift pirouette.

“It’s so pretty!” Madzie giggled, as Magnus picked her up and offered her a glass of juice.

“what do you think of the party sweet pea? Has Alec or Momma showed you the buffet?” Magnus asked, catching Alec’s eye as he sipped his drink.

“Not yet but it looks like there’s lots of food,” Madzie said excitedly, as Magnus led the way towards the buffet, with Alec not far behind him.

The three of them joined the queue and Alec found himself watching Magnus and Madzie interacting more than paying attention to the food on offer. He did put a few things on his plate, but his heart seemed to melt every time Magnus made a face for Madzie’s benefit when he tasted something sour or making content noises when it was something he liked. How Magnus would let Madzie try things and decided if she liked it or not before putting it on her plate. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at how lucky he was.

XO

Magnus handed Madzie over to Catarina once they had filled their plates from the buffet, his old friend sitting at a table with Tessa and a few other old friends near the bar. Alec had taken both their plates to the balcony once Magnus had assured him he’d be there after making sure Madzie got back to Catarina.

“You manage to find something new to try honey?” Catarina asked Madzie once she was settled in a seat beside her with her plate and a drink, though the younger seemed preoccupied with the couple of handfuls of honey roasted peanuts Magnus had put on the plate for her so she turned her attention to Magnus before he could slip away. “You managed to catch your shadowhunter? He was looking a bit lonely when I last saw him.”

“Yes, I was planning on eating with him a little on the balcony, but I have a feeling there’s something you want to tell me,” Magnus said, as Catarina sighed.

“Not tell really, as I’m sure you already know. But that boy is besotted with you in every way possible. You may have only been together less than a year but the way he was looking at you when you were interacting with Madzie before? It was like he saw something he wanted and would do anything to keep. So, whatever you do, don’t let him walk away like you did all the others Mags. He’s the best person in the world for you and you deserve to find that kind of happiness.” Catarina said, watching Magnus over her glass of red wine.

“How many have you had that you’ve already hit your philosophic drunk phase already?” Magnus asked, earning a roll of the eyes from Catarina.

“This is my third and I’m not a light-weight Magnus as you well know. Please just think about what I said and get back to your shadowhunter before he comes looking for you.” Catarina said, with a sigh before she turned back to Madzie who was trying unsuccessfully to cut a big block of cheese in half with her folk.

Magnus took a glance at his friend being maternal and domestic with her adopted daughter and walked towards the balcony, making sure to put a ward up in the doorway so he and Alec could have a bit of peace and quiet from the madness inside.

Alec was sat at the table, his gaze on the view and hand rested on the stem of his barely touched wine glass but from the faraway look in his eyes, he knew the younger’s mind was on him and there was little denying that all Catarina had said was true. And for Magnus, he had to admit it was something he returned whole-heartedly despite how little time they spent together or had been together.

He knew it was jumping the gun thinking of a future, or what could possibly equate to a future between an immortal and a shadowhunter, of living together and sharing all the great experiences that he wanted to witness Alec pursue for the first time. Of trips to foreign places and the firsts that Alec had been depriving himself of for so long because he believed he could never have them. And yet now that was all Magnus wanted to give him, on top of his own heart which he would eagerly cut out and give to Alec if he so much as asked. It was thoughts like these that scared him, after all that happened with Camille, and yet he knew that Alec would never break him the way Camille had.

“Are you enjoying the view Alexander?” he made himself ask before his thoughts found a voice that he knew damned well it was too early to verbalise. Those three words seemed to constantly sit on his tongue when around the younger and yet he knew it was those words which could possibly have Alec running for the hills if sprung on him too soon.

“Huh? Oh yeah, always.” Alec smiled as Magnus sat down opposite him with his own fresh glass of wine, their plates of food ignored for now.

“You tried any of the food yet? I wasn’t completely sure what particular cuisine to stick with so I ended up with a bit of everything.” Magnus said, pulling his plate towards him though his gaze continued to linger on Alec instead of the food.

“Not yet, I was waiting for you, but it does all look good,” Alec said, reaching for his own plate.

The two of them made small talk over their food, sometimes picking at certain things on the other’s food which they themselves hadn’t tried and Magnus refilling their glasses when they went below the halfway point so they didn’t have to disturb their sanctuary by going back inside. But every time the conversation lulled their gazes would meet and it was like a reminder of how lucky they were to have what they had, Once the plates were emptied and Magnus had conjured them a taster plate of the desserts, Magnus’ hand rested on Alec’s free hand as the younger fed him a piece of Christmas cake.

“You know if you keep this up my figure is going to suffer.” Magnus murmured, as Alec tried to feed him another mince pie.

“I don’t think I could ever see the day that that happens. You will always be beautiful to me no matter what.” Alec said, setting the rejected mince pie down and taking a sip of his wine.

“I think you might have had a bit more wine than I originally thought Alec, let’s re-join the party and I’ll give you your gift before you go back to the Institute,” Magnus said, though knew by how Alec shook his head that wasn’t going to happen.

“No, It’s true Magnus. From the moment I set eyes on you all I could think of was how beautiful you are and how lucky I am that you gave me a second look let alone gate crashed the biggest mistake of my life to fight for me.” Alec said, setting his half-finished glass aside and curling his fingers between Magnus’.

“Believe me I would do it all again in a heartbeat.” Magnus smiled, guiding Alec’s hand to his lips and kissing the back softly. He could feel Alec’s eyes burning into him at the gesture and got up to hopefully persuade Alec back into the loft, but when Alec followed instead, he found his lips being consumed by Alec’s with a passion and heat that he had barely felt before.

Something he knew without a doubt would lead to things that there was no denying that he wanted, but at that moment in time with Alec inebriated and them being on a balcony where anyone could see them he knew he would have to put a stop to it.

“Alec…” he panted, pulling back only for the younger’s lips to detour down his neck and suckle at a soft spot on his neck that had Magnus’ legs weakening and his head tilting back as Alec’s body crowded his own against the wall.

Magnus opened his mouth to try again only to feel Alec’s teeth grazing against his soft spot causing a shiver down his spine before Alec’s lips were back on his own and his body was melting at the attention. At the way, Alec seemed so intent on letting him know how much he was grateful for him and would forever want him as long as Magnus wanted him too. As if there was ever any doubt that Magnus would want this beautiful man.

“Alec…. darling….we really need to get you inside and sober you up a little. Not that I don’t love the attention but the last place I want this to progress is on the balcony….” Magnus groaned, hating himself for his self-restraint when he felt Alec’s lips pull away.

“Yeah, yeah right sorry…” Alec murmured hoarsely, pulling away and turning back to the view to pull himself together leaving Magnus leaning against the wall and cursing himself silently as he knew what thoughts must now be going through the other’s head as he approached him.

“Darling, you know how much I want you…and, believe me, I will always always want you. Just, not when you’re drunk, not on a balcony…. unless you ask very nicely and we’re alone in the loft and only when we are both sure this is what we want ok?” Magnus murmured soothingly, lacing his fingers between Alec’s and offering him a smile when their gazes met.

Alec silently nodded, almost as though he was afraid of what, he would do or say if he dared to speak, leaving Magnus to drop the ward to the balcony and lead Alec back inside.

The party was slowly starting to die down, some of the crowd had already left, mostly people Magnus didn’t know very well like members of Raphael’s clan or Luke’s pack and a few of the warlocks that had been milling around. The Lightwoods were sat at a table with drinks though young Max seemed like he was falling asleep on his mother’s shoulder and Catarina was sat on a couch with a sleeping Madzie in her lap.

Magnus led Alec towards the other couch and once he was settled conjured him a glass of water before gathering the presents that he wanted to give out to his guests. Catarina took hers and Madzie’s with a kiss on the cheek and smile before the pair disappeared. Raphael, Luke and Meliorn all accepted theirs and helped to herd out the unwanted guests still lingering before leaving. Only the Lightwoods and Clary remained, leaving Magnus to hand theirs out equally, along with a thank you present to Isabelle for helping with the party.

The only one remaining was Alec, who from the way he was looking at Isabelle as she hovered in the doorway, was planning to go back to the Institute. He probably still felt mortified about what had happened on the balcony in his drunken state, but Magnus wasn’t going to let him go without clearing the air.

He gestured for Isabelle to wait outside with a jerk of the head which she nodded in acknowledgement before closing the door, leaving Magnus to scoop up Alec’s present and sit beside his boyfriend on the couch. His gaze was rested on the now empty glass in his hands, as though wanting to avoid meeting Magnus’, but Magnus took the glass away and rested a hand under Alec’s chin until he looked up.

“Darling, I know it’s not quite Christmas day yet, but I was thinking before you left that we could open our presents to each other. I mean you’ll be at the Institute all tomorrow and I’ll probably be with Catarina, Madzie and Raphael.” Magnus said, offering him the expertly decorated present covered in dark blue wrapping paper with ‘merry Christmas’ wrote in silver calligraphy over and over.

“I’d like that, let me just grab yours.” Alec croaked, getting up from the couch and picking up a small red gift bag covered in a gold floral pattern.

Magnus watched him sit down beside him and offer him the bag to him unsurely like he was still so uncertain that the present would be something Magnus would like. But no matter what Alec had brought him there was little doubt in Magnus' mind that he would like it.

Magnus took the bag and handed Alec his present in its’ place before turning to open his present. The bag contained a royal red velvet box with a gold bow around it to match the gift bag. Magnus took a glance at Alec who was watching him, before untying the bow and opening the box.

What he saw inside was beautiful, there was no denying that. A yin and yang symbol pendant created in moonstone and onyx inside a silver frame which let the pendant spin around from one side to another. The chain was just the right length that he preferred and looked to be easily adjustable. But it wasn’t what he would have pictured Alec getting him, though he couldn’t explain why. Still when Alec met his gaze he smiled and put the necklace on and felt the chill of cold stone against his chest like a physical reminder of all the passion Alec had shown him when out on the balcony.

“It’s beautiful, thank you, Alexander.” He whispered, a chill running through him when Alec’s fingers grazed the frame over the pendant against his skin.

“Honestly I wasn’t sure what to get you since we’re still getting to know each other, but I’m glad you like it.” Alec smiled, before turning to open his own present.

Magnus watched nervously as Alec opened the wrapped box and saw him stiffen as he saw the book. He bit his lip as Alec took the book from the box and looked it over with interest, opening it to reveal the signature on the front page from the author and the first edition status on the inside.

“Magnus, it’s amazing. Where did you get this?” Alec asked, looking from the book to his boyfriend who shrugged it off.

“To be fair it was a part of my own collection, but I thought it was something you’d probably appreciate more since I hear from a little bird that you’re quite the book worm when you get the chance,” Magnus said, watching Alec’s fingertips trace the gold-gilded pages reverently.

“Yours? But I can’t take something this precious from Magnus…” Alec began, though stopped when Magnus put his fingers over Alec’s lips to silence him.

“You can and you will. Because with me all it’s done is sit on a shelf day in and day out, not being cherished and actually read as it deserves to be. And to be fair, the only precious thing in my life that means more to me than this book is you.” Magnus said gently, watching Alec’s still slightly glazed eyes soften at the affection in his voice.

“Thank you, Magnus. I love it.” Alec whispered when Magnus finally let go and pressed a kiss of thanks to his boyfriend’s lips/

“You are more than welcome.” Magnus smiled, grazing his fingertips against Alec’s jawline causing the younger to blush a little and put the book back in the box.

“Izzy will probably be waiting for me so I should get going but I’ll see you before New years right”? Alec asked as the couple got to their feet with Alec holding his book under his arm.

“Of course you will. Come over when you can and I’ll make dinner or something,” Magnus said, following Alec towards the door.

“Sounds good to me. Thanks for a great night and a great party Magnus, Merry Christmas.” Alec smiled, kissing Magnus with small pecks over and over as he opened the door.

“Merry Christmas Alec, bye,” Magnus whispered once Alec was gone and the door closed behind him not successfully muffling the sound of Jace teasing Alec and Isabelle cooing over how cute the couple were as the siblings left the floor.

It had definitely been one of the most memorable Christmas parties for Magnus without a shadow of a doubt, but as he leaned against the closed door toying with his present from Alec, he was sure that it was definitely the first of many and he couldn’t wait to see what they would all bring in years to come.

Fin.